New Moon from Edward's POV
by Itaque
Summary: What Edward was thinking after leaving Bella. A look into the mind of the character we unduly love. "I imagined Bella’s blushing and mortified reaction to the attention. Wrong. That was a terrible idea, that pain which was eating away, now burned my body
1. The Beginning

New Moon EPOV

_By Itaque_

It was gone. I felt the weak paper, that was just seconds before regaling news of the town of Forks, crumble and disintegrate. The words on that paper had disappeared, but were still true. I would forever be tormented by the printed headlines. But ,now, in the truest sense of the word they were gone. Gone was a word that could describe many things. My hopes, my dreams they too had crumbled with that paper. I scoffed at myself. As if I had the right to dream, I couldn't even sleep. Somewhere deep inside a voice—that was not the errant thought of one of my family members—said, what did you expect Edward? Did you _really_ think there would any future with both of you? Think Edward a soft voice commanded, this was your decision, it was for her good.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and drew my legs closer trying to contain the gaping pain that was now eating me outward. Glancing at the wall where a pile of dust lay in lieu of that filmsy newspaper it was easy to remember the headlines. They were forever clear behind my eyes. _Hospital on the Lookout for New Doctor, Sale at Costco, _and finally a tiny innocuous box: _Bella Swan Found. _It was amazing what that simple three word phrase could mean. Seeing it in print, knowing she was safe, made all the difference. But, there was still the fact that she had disappeared. Not for long, the paragraph mentioned. But long enough for her father, the local policeman, to contact the newspaper, my mind mused. I imagined Bella's blushing and mortified reaction to the attention. Wrong. That was a terrible idea, that pain which was eating away now burned my body. It tore through my veins and made me push the thought out of my head, rapidly. I gazed at the door frame looking more like a lace lattice than a piece of wood. The putty like structure had been perforated by the times my fingers had dug into its frame for support. I felt like I would collapse. All of a sudden a new wave of pain overthrew me as I remembered our discussion. _"Bella you'll be the death of me, I swear you will." _I had said, her reply was, "_You're indestructible." _How true. I was indestructible, a heartless, cold-blooded monster. I didn't deserve her. She had been wrong. I wasn't indestructible, I had felt enough pain to last a person centuries, but this dull hollow feeling was different. It felt awful. It felt as though my heart, I grimaced wryly, though non-existent had been ripped out.

The pain boiled over once again consuming me and I gripped the frame of the door for support. I tried to switch my mind to a less painful venue. I focused on the thoughts of my now worried family. If I had the energy I would have rolled my eyes. Their concern was quite touching, I thought sarcastically. The only comment that annoyed me slightly was Emmett's _Why did we have to move? _He internally groaned, no doubt missing the bear population of Washington. I was not in any mood to remind him the hundreds of times we had to move when he was a newborn. Countless times I had moved for my family's sake, now it was my turn. They owed me that much. Their pity pricked at the serrated edges of my missing heart. Alice's reaction was the exception, she seemed smug. There was something in her manner. She had been very careful with her thoughts, but I could guess what she was seeing. Probably me eating a couple herds of deer in a fit of anger. Why should she hide that?

The burning thirst in my throat was only second to the pain that now gripped me. I decided I would only hunt when I absolutely needed to. Hunting just reminded me of the things that would forever separate Bella and myself. I shook my head, Alice and her visions. At least now the vision she seen of Bella, I gripped the wall, as one of us would never happen. Somewhere deep inside me I felt relieved. She—saying _her_ name was too much for me to handle—deserved better. It would not be fair to condemn her to a nightless existence like mine. She would get over it, as she had told her mom, I was no more than a crush. Anguish again swelled. Ah, but _she_ was much more than that to me. I started to remember the lie I had fed her about distractions, but stopped. How far was I willing to drive myself? I collapsed in a heap and let the burning pain overtake me.

Time ebbed and remained moving, the flames continuously licked that jagged hole, but as always time continued. Ticking its never-ending beat, and I could hear the wheels and gears of the tiny clock whirring. Like the pain it was never ending.


	2. October

October

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and I probably (the odds are really quite impossible) never will.**

_By Itaque_

Time, as if often is with immortals, passes in the simplest sense of the word. It flips by never ending. For us there is not even the relief of nighttime, of sleep. But, there is an inherent complacency, a sense that lets us lay as time flips. I don't mean to say that time passes any quicker, just simply, usually the monotony masks the days into varying shades of the same hue. Unfortunately, I was not so lucky. For me, time burned. It pulsed raw and throbbing worse than any thirst had ever been. My mind completely numb seemed to still register the dull details of the passing day. The worst part was that there was no future. There would be no solace or end. I would have to reconcile myself to the fact that I would never see her again. Ever. I would never look at her face perfectly congealed in my mind. I would never see her expression, always curious, always infallibly serene. Only, one day, maybe we could—if miracles were possible—be together. But for that to occur an action I could not even bear to think would have to happen: her dea—I couldn't bear to think it.


	3. Reawakening

Reawakening

_By Itaque_

_Disclaimer: I don't think I mentioned this before but you probably could have guessed it: I'm not Stephenie Meyer and yes, I do not own Edward Cullen_

I started to question my sanity. For the first time in several decades I had been hesitant to leave a house. Moving was part of me. The packing was never an issue. Friends, I scoffed, were non-existent. We never set up roots in any of our locations. We just dispensed the obligatory lies surrounded the half-life we played. But for the first time—though it had been over two months—I could still feel the remorse as though it was yesterday. I had been reluctant to leave the old dusty white house. It was the décor or ambiance, or even the location that drew me to it. It was the memories that had taken place there. The fact that there was a place where she had existed. A place where it was possible for me to feel complete. That faded white house housed all of my dreams and like everything I had left behind, it too was gone. I had begun to register, even in my comatose state, that my presence was taxing the others. Though they would never admit it, I knew that my despair was preventing all of them from moving on. Jasper was probably feeling it the worst. He and Alice had taken to spending most of their days at the nearby university. I hadn't bothered to pay attention when Carlisle had mentioned the name. A small part of me was embarrassed by my actions. Embarrassed by the fact that I was a constant nuisance to my family, one who drove them away from our home. I could only imagine how powerful my grief was, it had forced Jasper into the throngs of immature humans just to avoid me.

Slowly that embarrassment that had been building for almost a month resurfaced. "You're leaving us, again," a gentle voice in the form of Alice whispered. I nodded. "Don't feel bad," she awkwardly mumbled again, "I'll tell them if you want." _Do what's best Edward_ her thoughts were saying. I grimaced at the irony of the statement, all I seemed to do was my best, yet it was never enough. She disappeared quietly blocking her thoughts. But before she left I caught a glimpse of what she was seeing, apparently I would never come back.

. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out. I packed my things quickly, a duffle bag of clothes and necessities, a passport claiming my name to be James Baron and a wallet filled with credit cards belonging to said James. I grimaced, James wasn't exactly a name I was fond with. Then suddenly everything fell into place. I knew where I would go. I would track that vile excuse of a creature, Victoria. She no doubt would be as absorbed with James's vendetta as he was. I had wondered where she had disappeared to after our encounter with James in Phoenix. Perhaps I could call up Tanya to see whether Laurent had heard from her. A new dull hope filled me. This was not the eagerness to move on, it was the hope that my presence—for the first time—would be able to protect her. By ridding the Earth of Victoria I would be helping her live. But first I needed to leave.

As reluctant as I was to admit it I knew that my family was part of the reason why I felt so miserable. My mind was dealing with different layers of grief. Each one berating me for my existence. The innermost layer of this was the pain of leaving _her. _This in turn was shrouded by a thin layer of self-pity and remorse. Then there was the embarrassment towards my family. And there was a small part of me, a tiny part of my convoluted mind that loathed my family. I hated to admit it, but their presence only reminded me of what we were, monstrous creatures surviving only by preying on the weak. They also reminded me, just as that old white house had, of her.

I hadn't had any experience tracking before. However my times with Jasper had informed me of battle tactics, strategies, and some brief tracking possibilities. The easiest would have been to ask Alice, but I stubbornly wanted to do this myself. I wanted to be the one to kill Victoria. My bags were packed and the rest of the family had left to hunt after Alice had told them. I had heard each one slowly approach the door before turning and leaving quietly. Alice still had to tell Esme, for I knew she would not let me leave is she knew what I was doing or that I was going. I pulled out a map of the United States briefly glancing over and memorizing the hundreds of tiny towns that dotted the North West. She had been in Forks last. When she heard the news she probably went north, trying to re-group or find a new coven perhaps. I traced the thin winding road through Canada. I replayed her scent in my memory, I was now confident I could find her. I looked out my window, for what seemed like the first time, and realized we were in New York. I would have to catch a plane to Calgary. I didn't want to get too close to Washington. I grabbed my things and ran to the garage, dimly observing the house as I passed. It was similar to all the houses we lived in. The pale, light décor, Emmett had even bought the same television. I sped on towards the garage. I briefly contemplated using a car. I would probably never see it again, but I didn't think my family would mind. They could always buy a new one. I glanced over the selection here. Rosalie's, Carlisle's, My and the standard four extra cars were housed in the garage. I chose out one of the four, a Lexus LS model. I threw my things in to the back seat and pulled out of the garage. We were farther in the woods this time. I drove my foot level with the ground, accelerating in a way that would have had Rosalie cringing, through the omnipresent woods.

The woods whipped past but I could still take in the details. The leaves were now turning a sickly brown and I could see the remnants of a morning frost coating the forest floor. The turns of the road continued and I remained driving south. I needed music, not my own of course that would only remind me of _her_, but something. Something we hadn't listened to together, but that I knew she would like. I turned the radio on and twisted the dial until I was listening to something acceptable. The music was no more than a background. A sieve for restraining some of my thoughts. I then grabbed the passport, controlling the car with one hand. And glanced over the documents making sure it seemed authentic. I had simply grabbed one out of the customary two or three fake identities we carried. Periodically Jasper and I would created new batches for the whole family in our "library." It was perfect. I grabbed the credit cards thinking back to how much money I had transferred on to them. Ah, Baron, I remembered this. Alice and I had gone—long before I had met Bel, her, I mean—to a bank south of Juneau. It was about five years ago and my Waserfeild stocks were up. Alice had warned me that they would crash soon, so I transferred about five million to the cards and the remaining to our central account. Before we started thinking of a name for the account we had been passing a bacon store. Alice had thought that it was really "Barrons" the famous learning books. She had rushed in before looking at the storefront and had found herself completely surrounded by smoked pig. It was, needless to say, and interesting ordeal to get out of. We had both come up with the name, grinning at the inside joke.

I had another ten minutes until I reached the airport. I wondered idly how I would get rid of the car. Abandon it at a car park? Toss the keys into the hands of an unsuspecting homeless person? Then I had an idea, what if I mailed them to _her_? Then she wouldn't have to drive that mass of metal. No, No Edward. That was a bad idea. I had promised never to interfere with her life again. I would not ruin her life with unexpected intrusions again. I sped off the exit slowing down only after catching the thoughts of a cop about a half mile away. I turned towards the airport and simply parked by the side of the road. I got my things out and left the keys behind, careful to wipe of any fingerprints. I wonder what they would think of my DNA, I pondered wryly. Strange new species with 25 chromosomes found in abandoned Lexus. That would make a headline.


	4. Flight

Flight

_By Itaque_

_**Author's Note: **_**I really do not want to become one of those desperate authors that threatens their fans, but please spare a comment if you can…**

_Disclaimer: Need I say it? Regardless of the answer, I am not Stephenie Meyer, never have been and never shall._

I need this, my mind willed. I was staring down in to the eyes of a flustered, yet incompetent, ticket attendant. Her dyed curls were bouncing agitatedly as she spun around assuring me that the earliest flight was in ten hours. That wouldn't do. I could hear her thoughts as she rambled on and on, and knew for a fact that there was a two fifteen flight in nearly half-an hour. "Really ma'am, please, the cost is no matter, I need a flight to Canada in the next three hours. It's an emergency." She looked back at me startled. Her thoughts were jumbled too, _he's a keeper…price is of no matter…I wonder why his eyes are so sparkling…and gorgeous… focus…and flight he said?_ I could tell that she was in no mind to speak coherently or think, for that matter. I quickly—for a human, but tiresomely slow for me—placed my passport and gold American Express card on the counter. Her expression cleared briefly. "Oh, yes, okay, um.." she mumbled. "I do recall you mentioning a flight in about thirty minutes at gate B32 to Calgary. Please see whether there is an available seat and book it, regardless of price," I responded. I hoped she would not realize the fact that the information had been plucked from the heads of her co-workers. Her fingers started nervously clicking in about a minute I could tell she had found a seat. "There's one on the flight, business class, seat 4F, but you'll have to run fast to get it" she cautioned. I half-smiled inwardly at the statement, I could run fast. Though it might scare the passengers.

She turned around to collect the printing ticket and gestured for me to grab a tag to check my bag in. However, I had already filled the tag and had it waiting, limply hanging off the handle of my suitcase. Time seemed so slow now. Dripping by agonizingly. While I may be able to run to the gate and back—several times—before she finished the transaction it still wouldn't speed up her actions. She picked up the hard plastic credit card and slid it slowly through the register. Finally she placed it back on the counter her over-powdered forehead wet with confused perspiration. I grabbed the card and the ticket just slightly faster than the average human and quickly muttered, "I'll need to be hurrying now." I slowly sprinted towards security and hoped the flight attendants would not have closed the gate by the time I reached it.

I nearly missed it. I reached the gate just before the doors had closed. I walked down the metal connector and soon I was on the plane. Planes were things I typically disliked. The overbearing smell of the gray fabric cushions and the scent of so many humans packed in one tiny metal contraption was too much to handle. I heard the music each of the passengers were listening to overlaid and clashing with each other. Classical with pop, country with rock, so on and so forth. But, I had more pressing matters. I needed to focus on where I would start my search for Victoria. Suddenly I saw my life from an outsider's perspective. What would I do once I was finished with Victoria? What would I have left to live for? Again the raucous crashing music of at least thirty different people met my ears as I failed to block them out. But the ordinarily chaotic noise was dull, more like the white noise of rain, or the friction of a dead tv. I could tell it was there, but for the moment I felt hollow. It was as though nothing could every hold any meaning. I had tried to trick myself, to commit that hunting Victoria would be my priority. And it would, but it would never hold my attention. It would never distract me from the agony or the emptiness that filled my being. Victoria would be temporary, the agony left from _her_ wake would never leave. I close my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I would not allow the pain to overtake me now among strangers. Later, I told myself, later I would revisit it. For the rest of that dismal plane ride I sat composing my face so that a passerby may even consider me asleep. But, inside I replayed every touch, every look I had shared with _her. _


	5. Quest

Quest

_By Itaque_

_**Author's Note: I know you are out there! Someone hopefully will read this! So please, random person, review. I have made anonymous reviews acceptable. So in my attempt to be not desperate, please read and critique… **_

_Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor am I fictional, sigh…_

What most might consider a speedy flight seemed only too long. By the time we finally touched down on the rainy runway of Calgary I was at the end of my wits. I could barely contain the frustration I was feeling. It was hard to keep the pain at bay, waiting for a more suitable venue to recollect on the fact that I would never see the core of my existence again. My mind finally let the announcement of the crackly speaker system through the defenses I had built up. We would be landing in the next ten minutes. Good. I stared out the window not really absorbing the view that was floating past. It was hard to look at the landscape when my eyes could discern the bumps and scratches on the airplane window. I trained my ears for the sound of the captain pressing the landing sequence. Soon I heard it, we had begun our descent.

I navigated through the brightly lit hallways following the signs until I reached the baggage belt. I pondered whether I should wait for my bags or leave them. It wouldn't make a difference for me. But, that would result in an investigation of who the bag belonged to and where it was meant to go. I sighed and decided it would be better to wait. I sat down gently in one of the plastic chairs overlooking the baggage claim area. It was hard to remember to not sit down too hard so the chairs would not break.

A car would be necessary to the next part of my plan. I speculated to travel north and then venture eastward hoping to catch a whiff of Victoria's scent. Why even wonder about a car? Though I wasn't as good with cars as Rosalie I certainly could hotwire one in under two minutes. I could rip the door off if I so pleased. A car would be taken care of.

Next—it seemed as though my mind was compartmentalizing plans and ideas to hold back the onslaught of grief that was due—I would need to hunt. It would be more favorable to be at a stronger position when taking care of Victoria. Then came the question of leads. The last I had heard of Victoria had been while Alice and I had been coming back from Phoenix with _her. _Carlisle had reported that she had fled Washington and was making her way north. But she wouldn't have ventured too close to the Denali coven. Suddenly I picked out my pseudonym on the tag of the bag just coming on the conveyor belt. I got it and went in to the parking lot. I stared out at the rows of multihued gleaming cars. This would be fun. Since I was relying on speed rather than show I ended up choosing an Audi coupe, the irony. Once on the highway I felt slightly better. It was late now and I was one of the few on the road. The dark shrouded road was preferable to the crowded plane. Luckily this car included a GPS I set off towards Wrangle-St. Ellias State park, I needed to hunt. It was funny, in a sick way, but the burning pain of thirst was now second to the anguish. In fact I hadn't noticed the thirst, I had simply given in whenever it became noticeable. I would slaughter a herd of deer or stalk a couple mountain lions without making an outing of it. But now I needed to hunt badly.

I started thinking, anything to keep my mind occupied on this journey. If I had been passing a version of my future self merely two years ago I would not have recognized myself. It was a simple, clear fact that, I forced the name out, Bella, had changed me. I had been wrong. Previously I thought that change was like a weathered rock. That change would occur gradually over long periods of time. But with Bella this was not the case.

From the moment I crossed her presence I had changed. To leave this irreversible change was painful. It was beyond harsh. Now as I struggled each day to maintain the façade of sadness, instead of despair, it stung.

The fact was this was death as much as it was the end of a relationship. It was the death of something that could have been real. A choice in my life, a change. No. It could never have been real. We could never have lived out our love or continued in our own world in true lover's fashion. We would be stuck forever at an impasse. My very presence would have been sucking her precious life away.

The worst was that I had seen it all. I had seen, through Alice's vision, the impossible event of our marriage. There was Bella, slender and fragile, making her way towards me—of all people. She was blushing as usual but the pink tinge just added to her loveliness. There under a hundred roses she looked up and said... Just as quick as that vision had come to Alice it had whirled out. It was replaced by an image. Bella her mahogany tresses longer and skin paler, but that was not the difference. Instead of the warm brown eyes I was used to seeing I saw the red eyes of a newborn monster. NO! It would not happen, and I would never pity the death of that vision. That only reminded me of my quest tonight. I was on a mission I would find Victoria and I would to protect _her_ for once.


	6. Hike

Hike

_By Itaque_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: My previous pleas seem to have fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps I am being foolishly greedy asking for reviews. But, you readers, must realize how much that tiny effort encourages my writing. For the sake of this story, I shamelessly ask you to review.**

_Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. All work created on this account is not meant to copy or recreate her work. This story in no way is meant to violate the copyright agreement of Stephenie._

I raced through the night. Of course sleep was of no issue. Had I been human I might have considered today one of the longest days of my shallow existence. I scoffed, not only was the idea ludicrous but the thought that getting on a plane and driving seemed hardly impossible. Yet some how it was rendered so difficult.

I slowly took in the interior of the car, the gentle leather that lined the inside was top of the line, Rosalie would have approved. It had a flashy yet subtle class that reminded me oddly of a painting. Every part, every wood veneer inlay, fit together perfectly. Taking in the details of the car was an odd thing to do, even for me. Generally details were absorbed, osmosis one might speculate. Yet here I was stalking these details. Focusing on the creases and patterns as they were of vital information, it was all for a reason. I needed a distraction. I needed to take a break from the agony and obsession that plagued my life. It wasn't that I wanted to get rid of it. I welcomed the pain. I knew, however, that though it may be possible stalking Victoria while in such a state would be difficult.

I spared a embarrassed thought towards my family more people my presence had hurt. Emmett probably thought I was crazy. He wouldn't be the only one. Rosalie of course, once she got over herself, would hate me. Again a sport she wouldn't be alone in. I had wondered briefly why she thought that. I had come to the theory that she found my relationship with Bella similar to hers and Emmet's. Though she had tried to hide her thoughts and act indifferent I had caught a glimpse. My decision to leave Bella, I winced, human either showed that I, in her eyes, didn't care that much about her—I almost smiled at the impossibility—or that I loved her more than she loved Emmett. She chose to accept the first. Rosalie had to be the best at everything in her mind. Alice however was a bit of a mystery. Her reaction would be resigned at the least. The last vision she had must have shown her something or she would have never have let me leave. She might miss having another person who could relate to what she felt. I however never had that. Jasper might miss a fighting partner, and he might be even relieved by the change in the other's emotions. Esme—it was too hard to think about her. My sweet and caring mother never deserved the treatment I had given her. I hurt me that she saw me as the son I knew I could never live up to be. I didn't deserve this kind of love or affection. And…Carlisle. My father, my mentor, my protector. What did he think now? Did he loathe me for the hurt I had caused the family—no, he could never loathe. Was he disappointed that I had to run away again?

Once again my thoughts returned to the hole that had returned again. Running away was something I did best. I heard a gentle snap; the steering wheel had cracked under my grip. I lifted my hand off, my hands had molded the wheel. I gently pulverlized the rest of the molding leaving a slightly thinner version of the wheel. Destroy the evidence. I gripped my knee not wanting to ruin anything else. It required physical effort to cling to the scraps of humanity that still remained. The scraps that had been shrunk and regrouped during the centuries had changed. In the last few years I had found a part of myself that seemed missing. These scraps had been intensified with her presence. It was funny, if you had a sick and sadistic mind as mine could sometimes be. From the first time I met _her_, Bella, had seemed weak and defenseless. But, here was I, the supposed stronger species and I was unable to survive. I was supposed to be the killer whale, she the baby seal. This was the way things were supposed to be. I shook my head. Trying, vainly to dispel the thoughts. It was hard to do. Generally I could block off the rush of thoughts that continued

Bella would be fine. I was sure of the fact. Her mind, though curiously complex was only human. She would forget me, and my family. Though this seemingly understood fact was supposed to cheer me up there was a small twinge of sadness. A sad rebelliously selfish part of my mind hoped that she hadn't skipped off into the sunset. But, who knew? I certainly didn't. I mustn't think such thoughts. It wasn't fair, to either of us. I had one promise I would honor.

I continued my ruminations through the night as the Canadian forest melted at my sides. I would catch myself staring out the sides, scanning the highways for thoughts. Finally I saw myself drawing near the part entrance. There was about two miles so I turned off the road and maneuvered the car through the dense forest. The spruces were lighting up as I came upon the trees. Finally I found a spot and once again I abandoned the car. I grabbed my bags and scanned quickly over the car making sure I didn't leave anything behind. I repeated the process of wiping of evidence and soon I ran into the woods. I soon came upon a clearing; I ripped down the trees surrounding the area taming the woods into a more suitable shape. I quickly stacked the logs hammering them together with my fists. After about twenty minutes of work a small lean to was built. I placed my bag inside. I ran through the forest, staying a close fifty miles to my makeshift home, taking a brief scan over the things I saw. I saw the burnt out area of a campsite and approached it. There were the remnants of wrappers and a shred of a magazine. The shiny pages said this was the November/December issue. This was later than I had been thinking; I had been previously confused of the date. I took magazine back to my habitat so I would have some chain to humanity. Here among the trees, living like the primal beast I was, it was all to easy to forget why I was here. Why I was doing this. Then, unthinkably fast the pain approached. It was hard to make it back into the habitat. Every step reminded me of Bella, wince, and my journey through the woods to our place. The place where dreams had seemed possible. I collapsed on the floor of the house. Then, I the sleepless monster, drifted into the anguish.


	7. Hunter

Hunter

_By Itaque_

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, as this does reach you a little later than expected, I should probably begin by apologizing. However it's my longest chapter yet, so I hope it compensates for that fact! Thank you, truly, for all of the pleasant reviews I have received. It really helps guys! Should I mention it again? Need I mention, it? I just enjoy reading reviews that help me better the story...I really am not that selfish...**_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series! I just am inexplicably obsessed! Never the less, this is not a claim or imitation of the work of Stephenie Meyer._

What I was going through was odd to say the least. It wasn't a dream, of course, yet it was the flashing of several images. All racing through my mind. It was as though I was watching a movie reel—or whatever they were called now—speeding by at a fast forward pace. The reason why I had previously speculated that this was dream was that humans, though inferior to us in every aspect, thought faster than even I could comprehend while sleeping. They were masters at the one thing we were barred from. How funny.

This video montage was a pulsing flashing ordeal. It was almost like a visual accompaniment to my songs. Composing was a sporadic activity for me. It was never planned or thought out. In fact whenever I truly tried to compose a song it was mediocre at the best. But, there were moments of inspirations. Moments when a tune would race through my mind, leaving in its wake a path of music. This path would call continuously luring me to pen the notes, daring me to resist the tune. Then I would, inevitably, write down the melody that had been triggered. This seemed like one of those times. It was almost an otherworldly experience, and this was coming from a vampire. I focused all my attention to these flashing images. Was it Victoria? Was she near? This seemed almost like Alice's visions only faster and more blurry. As I focused I could make out the image of the woods. That seemed fairly generic. What was so important about foliage? Then as I trained my eyes on the leaves in the images I realized what they were madrone trees. Suddenly I knew exactly what this was. It wasn't a premonition. No it could never have been. It was my memories. Dredged up after being hidden away my memories were back to haunt me. These were snapshots of times when my life was different. As soon as I had remembered the madrone trees I could feel the cicadas humming and the humid air wafting across my unnaturally cold skin. It was after prom. Then in a weak form of Bella's mysterious voice _I want to be like you_ she had said. _That's all I want, to be with you forever_, no, the voice inside my head cautioned, this isn't right Edward. _It's too late_she had said. _I love you, forgive me…this is the only thing I can ask from you, I'm sorry._ She had penned these words before running towards the arms, I snarled, of that monster. Then one more memory surfaced it was during the summer before her birthday.

It had been a cloudy day and we had traveled toward the Sol du Lac river that the house overlooked. There sitting in the banks between the tall reedy grass life had seemed almost perfect. I had spread a wool blanket across the ground and Bella had curled up by my side. Her fragile head was resting on my non-existent heart. "Edward," she had said looking up at my face. The amount of emotion and feeling that was conveyed in that tiny two syllable word was profound. I gazed at her face trying to speculate what she was going to say next. "Yes," I had replied letting my hand softly run through her hair. "Did you ever…regret becoming…you know…Do you wish you had lived your life out in 1918…that we, this, would haven't had to happen?" she had almost whispered her voice breaking on the last words. I sucked in air sharply, a reflex action, that was what she was thinking? She seriously thought that I regretted meeting her? That I would rather live out my human life and, despite what I was, given up the chance to meet her? "No," I replied. "Never think that, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I would have traded anything to know that someone, _you_, were there for me. Never ever think that." I hoped she would understand what I was saying. The reason why I could never change her was because of my love. I would never be able to look at her eyes and see that I had made her what she would be. I could never make her a monster. Worse yet, I could never submit her to that kind of pain. I knew, though she may deny it, that she would never ever forgive me for subjecting her to the agony of the transformation. She had been silent for a moment, thinking over what I had said, driving me mad with frustration. What was she thinking about? Then she shifted, sliding up so her head was next to mine. Very slowly she leaned over and pressed her lips to mine. "Thank you," she whispered. "For what," I managed to respond. "Loving me," she had replied.

That was then. This was now. I turned to my duffle bag, for the first time in my life I could not recall what I had packed. It was strange, I usually never forgot anything. I labeled the incident as memory loss while preoccupied. I had no doubt been quite estranged while preparing for my spur of the moment decision. I flexed my ears trying to hunt out the noises of civilization. I could hear the faint rumbling of trucks on the highway. I strained my ears again, farther away, maybe twenty miles I could hear noises that indicated a small town. I would begin my search there.

I stepped out of my lean to, the dry earth crackling noisily under my feet. I looked around pinpointing in my mind the location of the campers I saw three hours ago, my temporary home, and the town. It would be safest to hide my bag. I quickly but grudgingly—for my duffle bag was of quite good quality—dug a hole just ten feet deep. I gently dropped the bag in and then jumped out. Then I covered the hole back up placing leaves and twigs over the fresh earth. Hiding my tracks was essential yet tiresome. I sprinted towards the town.

Then I realized I had not hunted. I ran deeper into the forest, away from the humans, and the town, searching for noises of animals now. After about ten minutes I could hear a passing deer herd about twenty miles to the east. But I was itching for a challenge. I wanted a bigger kill, a bear or cougar. I continued running then towards where the deer were running from. I was not surprised to hear the dull growl of a hungry cougar. I stalked towards where it was standing, unaware of my presence. I would need to be neat, it would be stupid to have to unearth my bag and change my clothes, I dashed towards it allowing it to feel threatened. I watched as it whirled around and crouched into a defensive position. Slowly I stepped out of my hiding place allowing it to see its predator. The cougar growled and I heard a flock of birds two miles away fly away. I steadied myself. I could kill it now, easily, but I wanted the fight. It was a pity there wasn't a transportable version of Emmett; it would be quite enjoyable to spar with him now. Predator and prey, we locked eyes with each other. Surveying our moves we walked in a circle. Then, the animal launched towards me, its claws extended. The claws felt nothing more than feathers brushing against my granite skin. Its bite from its snarling teeth was mere gnats resting on my ear. I stepped forward before it noticed my action and swiftly pierced towards the throbbing vein in its throat. Soon it was drained. My thirst, though never completely satiated, was for the moment abated. I turned again, and began my journey towards the town.

As I approached town I could tell that this would be a one or two stop light town. The amenities it provided were fairly rustic, a gas station, a diner, a few shops, and a building that seemed to host the fire station and police department. I looked up at the sky, for it was nearly morning now, from the sun's position I guessed about six twenty-three. I needed to be sure that a sudden burst of sunlight wouldn't be on the horizon. The sky was covered in a nearly omnipresent layer of clouds. I would be safe for now. I turned and walked along the cracking sidewalk surveying the area around me. I could hear a few people getting up, alarms being slammed off, and cars starting. I entered the tiny diner, already sporting an open sign, and looked toward the counter. Perhaps I would be able to find the nearest big city from one of the workers. I had deduced last night that Victoria would not be far from a settlement, she would need several humans to be able to hunt undetected. Pausing briefly at the front of the store I waited until I was greeted by a middle-aged blonde waitress. What was it with these middle-aged women, must they only work where I require service from? Her stiffly starched uniform was already limping from perspiration. "What do you want," she said, getting straight to the point. She seemed suspicious, even in her thoughts. _Darn good looking that one…wonder how old he is…too young of course…why is he alone…_ "I was wondering if you had a map," I said slowly lowering my voice until it was the tone I used with humans. "A map of what?" she replied, I listened to her thoughts. _Why does he want a map, does he think we're a gas station…_I had begun to block her thoughts out when I heard _Why all these tourists so pale these days? That other lady, darn gorgeous, but heck she was paler than the winter sky. _Apparently this waitress also had an interesting selection of explicatives. Nothing compared to my collected vocabulary, but interesting at the least. That other lady, no doubt she was Victoria, or a vampire at the least. "I was hoping to find a road map of Canada," I said. "I've been looking for my sister," I slipped in cautiously hoping she would catch the hint. "I wonder, perhaps, have you seen her? She is a little shorter than me, with long hair." I waited as she processed my question. _Could that other lady have been his sister? She seemed sort of similar to him when you think about it. But her eyes, they were strange… Her eyes were flighty and kind of blackish brown, almost reddish…Quite strange. _"Well a lady did come in about a week ago, didn't mention where she was going, but headed west towards Manitoba," she finally answered. She walked away after saying this and retrieved a map. "That will be about 5.25," she told me. I paid, then knowing time was of the essence, I rushed out of the store. But not before saying, "Thanks, keep on the look out for her."

I ran back swiftly after throwing the map away, it was unnecessary. I had only entered the store to find out more about the region and to see whether Victoria had passed through. Though relying on the thoughts of a bleary eyed human was hardly a good basis for a hunt, it was the only thing I had to work with. I returned to my hut structure and pulled my bag out of the ground. I surveyed the area before ripping down the structure as quick as I had built it. I dispersed the wood among the forests and came back with armfuls of ferns to cover the area with. Then I grabbed my bag and hurried to where I had left my car. For the first time I hoped no one had taken it.

I was lucky, once again. The car had not been stolen. I was in the car, my duffel bag next to me, in record time. I felt my phone buzz and looked at the caller, Emmett. He could wait. I then drove out of the woods and on to the highway. As I raced westward I quickly took inventory of the fuel/gas and oil in the car. It seemed to be sufficient. I had found an extra carton of gas in the trunk so I wouldn't need to stop. Hoping that the woman's memory held true I raced, once again, through the Canadian forest.

To say the road was empty would be an understatement. It was barren and, had I not been living for over seventy years with few or no companions, it might even be considered lonely. But I had been alone for too long, and was an expert at patience. Literally everything I ever had craved had to be resisted. Blood, humanity, and finally..._her. _


	8. Musing

_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and the news gets worse...I do not own "The Lady of Shalott" by Alfred Tennyson..._

Author's Note: I believe that the past five days were perhaps the longest time between updating, Sorry! I had various technical difficulties, but I did continue to write. Here is the first part of what I put together. And, as always, here is me shamelessly pleading for one, tiny, miniscule, if possible, review. It may, possibly encourage me to update quicker...Let the show begin!

Musing

_By Itaque_

The sky was still gloomy as it was when I had started my journey. It appeared that now my life consisted of only driving and alternately hunting. The black road that stretched before me was comforting almost. The rain glistened pebbles that dotted each side of the road seemed like the only home I had now. I gazed towards the deep forests, my eyes boring through the shadow shrouded maze. It was quiet. Well, relatively so. The animals already aware of my presence had fled. The sole noises were those of a passive life. The brushing of leaves on a tree, the scurrying of ants along bark, and the grating of a tree creaking. I focused once more on the road. My lead had been far from satisfactory. The image the waitress had managed to conjure up was blurry to say the least. Captured by the eyes of a dim-witted human the woman in her memory could have been any red-head. But, it was her reaction had made me aware of this _particular_ red-head. The tremor of fear that twined through her thoughts. The subconscious raising of hair on her pudgy arms. It indicated all to well that the woman in her mind was danger. The lady could not have rationalized the danger herself. What was there to fear of an unnaturally pale female? Yet, what would she say if she knew? What would she do if she was told that that apparently harmless female could rip out her throat before she would realize it?

I wondered in the back of my mind why she didn't do it. Why had Victoria left the lady alive? She could have just as easily, and probably more conveniently, disposed off of the waitress. The effort of finding something to cloak her eyes and enduring the thirst must mean she was on a mission. Either that or I was, once again, wrong. A stanza, subconiously being pondered in my head, wafted forward. _Moving through a mirror clear…shadows of the world appear… came two lovers lately wed… "I am half sick of shadows," she said…_I knew the poem, the ridiculously famous, "Lady of Shalott," by Alfred Tennyson, circa 1809, published first in 1833 and second in 1842. I had been forced to read the poem as a child. It had been the subject of much debate. I would not be disputed in saying that Tennyson took a certain creative liberty when writing the poem. I refocused on the words that had flown in my mind. In a way, a sick way that involved me being female, I could understand what she meant. Throughout my life I had see the world about. My eyes were those "mirrors clear." But, I knew, nor cared, what the world around me did. For the most part being a vampire was quite boring. I spent my existence rebelling against what I was, yearning to be what I was not. Days past as the lovely shades of dismal, monotonous, and tedium. Events were only markers among decades. Celebration, non-existent. In my early life, as I liked to think of it—pre-Bella—the most remarkable day of my existence may have been the day my eyes returned to that incorrigible tan. Of course meeting Alice and Jasper in addition to Tanya's clan were imprinted in my memory.

This led me to the second part of my musing. "_Two lovers lately wed…I am half sick of shadows, she said" _With each addition to our dangerously growing—no one wanted a run with the Volturi—a sense of completeness would follow. The love surrounding Carlisle when with Esme, Jasper with Alice, and of course Emmett and Rosalie was irrepressible. It was evident to me, even though Jasper was supposed to sense emotions. This love, an the passion and desire that inevitably followed was too much to bear. I had been complete, I reminded myself, I am complete in myself. This completeness, this joy would be tainted by my presence. It would start by Esme's worry over my well being. Then cause Carlisle concern that he made the right choice. Next Jasper would be affected by their moods, causing Alice to consider murdering me. Leaving Rosalie disgruntled and Emmett amused. Perfect.

I had to consider the fact that perhaps Tennyson really did have an inkling of what was really going on. He knew the despair one would face while watching the world move, yet forever being stuck in the same place. I had lived that life for too long, and then _"As often thro' the purple night, below the starry clusters bright, some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over still Shalott."_ This explained her—Bella—perfectly. Before I had met _her,_ in my early life the events and introductions and been minor points of light amid my existence. But then, on that fateful day, the first time my presence nearly killed her, something changed. I did not know it then, I had been consumed with the burning thirst to, I shuddered, kill her. However, somehow I had overcome that thirst. Somehow I had refrained from touching the one thing that would mean so much. After I left I had begun to think clearly. The memory of her scent, the desire to taste…it was still preserved. Yet among the trees, far from the life I had created, away from Forks, it was easier to think of her as a person rather than prey. That second conversation had me hooked. The taste while still quite unbearable was overcome by something slightly stronger, curiosity. I wanted to know more about this Bella Swan. I wanted to protect her frail figure from the dangers that seemed to naturally follow her. Suddenly, a burning meteor, something I could have never imagined or known of before, had passed through my existence. It was hard to say when it happened; all I knew was that it had. In a way that surpassed any knowledge I had collected I knew that I was irrevocably in love with Bella. She however was human, she needed change, and she deserved change. This was why I was here. Exactly, my mind calculated, seven hundred forty-three miles away. The fact did nothing to change the fact that my existence had, in fact, changed when Bella entered it. Something had moved over "still" Edward, that something was the reason why I was here.

This brief minute I had taken to think had done me good. Amid the musing I had come upon the real reason I was here. It was as though my thoughts had spurned me forward, daring me to continue. I was here on a mission, however sidetracked I might will myself to be, the fact would never change. I suppose this could be considered a vendetta, an obsession to get back at the one thing that still harmed Bella. But it was not. More, of a retaliation of sorts. A change to right what was inherently wrong, fix what needed to be fixed. For society at least, I reasoned, Victoria was a danger to all humans as well. What she was planning now I could not be sure of, and for the first time that scared me. I wasn't sure what to expect, though I knew I could handle whatever she through my way. No, my fear had a far less selfish route. I was afraid for _her_, Bella. Victoria could surely not be capable of much murder; she seemed to be with James for comfort rather than love. A lover's bond would not have been broken. Besides, if that were the case she should have come after me, or my family. Not Bella.

I turned back to the road, my gaze had been trained to the veneer interior as I had pondered my existence. I rolled down the window, slightly so the air from outside would enter. I sucked a deep breath in and the air whooshed hollowly down my throat. It did nothing, as it hadn't for over ninety years, to abate the dull thirst at the back of my throat. It did, however, leave behind various odors for me to decipher. There was the musky woody smell of a Cockspur Hawthorne typical to the region. This was coupled with the earthy undertone of decomposing leaves and mulch. There was the faintly sweet smell of a group of squirrels scurrying away. That seemed to be it, but I focused closer. I sifted through the odors of pines, of tar, of the road beneath me, and the rubber of my tires. I ignored the fragrance of the dew and the past rain. Then the air was tainted by one more smell, a scent I had wished never to smell again. It was a scent that had reeked havoc on my pitiful existence. It was this scent that had aided a monster in the hunt of the one thing I loved. Victoria. She had passed through here about a month ago, traveling south west towards Prince Albert National Park, though I doubted whether she continued that far. I got out of my car and began to survey the land around me. The hunt had begun.


	9. Search

**This is going to be updated...this is not complete yet. Need I say it? Should I? Okay, I suppose I shall...Please Review! **

**Disclaimer: As always I own nothing!**

Search

_By Itaque_

I pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out to take a better look. Victoria had been here, at least I was on the right path. Perhaps if I could find a trampled plant or a whiff as to the scent of the fabric she was wearing it would be an easier search. I swiftly entered the woods watching as the ground flew around me like the tarmac before a plane. However instead of the blurry grey or green one would have expected I was able to see every blade of grass and every fissure in the shaded tree's bark. I was farther in the woods now, the muted light was only filtering through in sporadic shafts. The musty smell of the trees around here was unfamiliar. I had gotten too fond of the vegetation in Forks. I drew a deep breath in again. Amid the motes of different scents I caught a whiff of that vile scent. For once I was actually glad, nay, happy to have detected her prescence. From the strenght and direction the smell had wafted in it appeared that she had travelled five miles north. But what was there? An unsuspecting town? Purely a whim? Surely not, immersing herself with humans would require too much preparation and work. Victoria, or any "normal" vampire for that matter, would never expend the effort it took to maintain our frail facade. This thought drew one of two conclusions. The first was that Victoria, though she appeared to have been changed in the 1970's was reverting back to her new born instincts. Perhaps she had been quite shaken by the experience in Phoenix. That drew another tangential thought forth in my mind. I had been wondering whether Victoria had realized that James was dead. I had never quite gotten a look at their coven that night. It appeared that she, like Laurent, was a follower. There with James only for protection. Her thoughts seemed to agree, quite confidently, that he would succeed--I snarled--in his hunt of Bella.

But why? She would have known that she couldn't have shared the blood. If the fact that sharing human blood was impossible hadn't tipped her off then surely she would have realized that blood couldn't travel the five hundred miles from Phoneix to Washington. So, the question arose again, why help? Could they have been mates? Surely I would have seen that bond between them. I may not be able to understand _her_, Bella's, thoughts but I could definitely comprehend the thoughts of other of us. Us, blood sucking monsters. I had detected no such bond. Only a sense of confidence, a sense that he would not fail. That was not love. Though I may not know the love between vampires, and I thought bleakly, I would never know love again, I knew that Victoria and James were _not_ in love. Nothing, not even one ounce of their thoughts conveyed a thousanth of the relationship Bella and I shared. Even Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, or Emmett and Rosalie, different types of attraction in each case, did not have the feral survival instinct that was prevalent in their thoughts. It wasn't as though Victoria was afraid of James, she was if anything afraid for herself. But beyond that was the slightly gloating satisfation. The knowledge that in her mind we, the strange wannabe humans, were going to be destroyed. We were going to be taught a lesson. She was wrong. She was most definitely wrong. James had not succeeded though, I shuddered, he almost had. The memory of Bella lying limp and weak on the ground. The smell of her blood had held no attraction, it was seeing her that had convinced me that I was wrong. It was not fair for her to be subjected to such danger. She would be safer without me. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Was it possible for vampires to get migraines? I wondered how Asprin would react to our system.

Victoria's behavior made me even more sure that she was a danger to Bella. Previously I had travelled here on a whim. I wanted to safen the world, but I had no concrete evidence that she would threaten Bella. It was more the idea that her uncontrolled mind might seek out a vendetta, a chance to hurt our coven truly. But now, now I was quite sure that Victoria was doing something. I wasn't--the feeling was strange and unusual--quite sure what she was doing. However I knew she was preparing for some elusive goal and that was enough. It made me ponder what exactly that goal was. What could she want to achieve, would she go after my family? I reflected guiltily whether I should warn them of the threat. But a smaller more selfish part of my mind whispered that their concern would be too much. They would question my whereabouts and what exactly I was doing with my existence. In addition I didn't want to talk to Esme. I was too cowardly, I didn't deserve to hurt someone so kind and loving. I had left without letting her know of my actions. It hurt to see how much my negative presence had affected my family, but it was even more dolorous to ponder upon how the lack of my presence would have affected them. I wasn't filled with self-importance. I _didn't _want them to miss me. Yet I knew from past experience that I would be missed. Our family was strong, but the bonds between us weren't ones of convenience. Unlike Laurent and James and Victoria we were trulying in the deepest sense of the word family. We were freaks among the freaky. Outcasts among those who were shunned from society. We had lived together for over forty years and the presence of each member distinctly came together to create our familal unit. I had been there from the beginning. I was the first to join Carlisle, the first to adopt this way of life. Thus it was rational that I would be closer to the center of our little clan. However we were all adults. Though our family was connected Carlisle, Esme, Alice, no one could stop any of us from making our own decisions. They would have to understand that, I thought, turning my guilt into frustration. I seemed to be at a hopeless point. My only reason for living had to be cut out of my life. Bella. Without her I was lost, afloat, unsure of my purpose. After all, what purpose was there when I had no interest in life, or rather, my existence? There was no outlook, perhaps, one day...a small voice whispered. No. Never. I refused to dwell on the ruminations of that tiny voice. For I knew that once I started thinking about it nothing would prevent me from implementing my plan. My plan, it sounded as though I had thought it out. I hadn't really, well--not that much. The thought was pushed forward stubbornly. No. I knew that this action would be remarkably selfish, that to do what my mind was suggesting would be utter blasphemy. I knew I couldn't. Yet it didn't stop me from thinking about it. Say, if possibly, seventy years from now I went back to check on _her, _Bella. What if she was on her death bed, I convulsed spasmodically, I couldn't think like that. Seventy years was quite a long time. But, if I did go back, and I did have the means to save her...would it work? No. No, it wouldn't. I wouldn't allow myself to do that. I had promised her. In a while she would go back to her normal life. Surely she wouldn't miss me, I was but a brief crush, in her own words. Then, I felt myself inadvertently tense, what would happen? In five, ten, fifteen years would she give up on looking for me? Would she even bother to search? After those five, ten, or fifteen years would she reconsider? Would she choose one of her human friends? That, jealousy flared again like the burning thirst for human blood perhaps even stronger, Mike Newton? Would she be Bella New--I couldn't think it. I couldn't imagine that immature excuse for a man with _her. _As if I had any say in it, I was better that I was gone. Of course she would get over me.

Clearing my head of all thoughts that made me feel like jumpng on the first plane to Italy, I turned back to the desiduous maze I was maneuvering through. There were a few logs on the ground and I jumped swiftly over them. The forest ground was softer here, a squelching sort of mixture. I inhaled the now more potent smell of Victoria. I finally had crossed her trail. I looked down to see the path she had created it had been worn down by nature. I could tell she was here about three weeks ago and further searching revealed a trampled branch peppered with Victoria's scent. Inhaled the branch once again internalizing the scent, it was an odor tinged with the sweetness of a too ripe banana yet smelling quite like the ocean. I again reviewed the scent in my mind sifting through the layers of aromas they came with. Then I found a glimpse, if anything, of information. Victoria's scent was quite weak to begin with, but amid it was a tinging burning sweetness that could only be human blood. Why would she be so careless as to spill blood on her person? Surely she wasn't that sloppy. No it must be something else, an ulterior motive that had yet to be presented. But what?

I reviewed the information I had gathered so far. Eight months and fifteen days ago I had gone to Phoenix, to put it lightly. At that time Victoria had been searching around Forks, gathering information.


	10. Revelations

**Author's Note: The dramatic jump in views/alerts has been quite encouraging! However I have notice--you really didn't think I wouldn't, did you?--that for the 1739 hits I have, I have only received 27 reviews. Please dear readers? Though I don't consider myself completely daft I do realize that is only one review for every 63 hits. Anonymous reviews are acceptable, so spare a thought, and review. Please!**

**Disclaimer: While I may not own Twilight or Edward Cullen they both may be running rampant in my head.**

Tracking

_By __Itaque_

I tried to ignore the omnipresent feeling of deja vu that now peppered my life. It wasn't as though I had other things to think about. I ran swiftly towards the car, this time I disregarded my surroundings. The trees and ground melded together in a earthy blur as I sped past them. I followed the trail I had created loosely straying towards either side to lengthen my journey. I wasn't used to this constant travelling. True, when it had been just Carlisle and myself we had travelled for great distances stopping rarely and briefly. But over the past few decades as our small coven had continued to grow we found it simpler to stay in one place. It wasn't that we resented moving, it made no difference, to myself at least. However it indicated a certain tameness about us. We were not the typical nomads. We chose to embrace our existence and life the personas we created for ourselves. We enjoyed some regularity, it made us feel more humane.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head, maybe I would stop later. Maybe. It wasn't as though I needed to sleep or take a shower. I hadn't released body fluids for over a century, dirt was only superficial and could be dusted off. What would I do, read? I wasn't able to concentrate on a thought process let alone a novel. Once again I released all frivolous thoughts from my head. I focused on the nagging doubt that had been itching me from the moment I reached the end of Victoria's trail. It was easier in fact to ignore the repeated sense of loss, the feeling that I had failed. I simply was not used to this. Perhaps I was acquainted the continual feeling of moving. After all an eternity was quite a long time to stay in one place. But it was this emotion of losing that was unfamiliar. The idea that I would reach a place only to realize what I was searching for had already left. It felt quite like I was a blind man clutching weakly at air, calling out for something that was long gone. I sighed. Hunting was not supposed to be this difficult. Searching, apparently, was. It was as though I was continually driving or running. Though, I supposed that it was good. I found it was easier, if only a modicum, if I was engaged to put away the feelings that bombarded me. I was a fool to think that this would be possible. Not the hunting of Victoria, that would be only too easy. But,this. This endless agony that would have killed any mortal or immortal with one ounce less of willpower than I had. Amid the millions of words that I had gathered over the years there was no single word that could describe what I was going through. Perhaps I would have to use my own hapax legomenon, a word used only once in the written record of language. Of course this word would only occur once. I doubt that anyone, human, immortal or otherwise would have experienced what I was going through. Maybe she, Bell--no, she would not feel but a drop of the agony that was coursing through my body. It was not capable for two people, or one, I corrected, to feel so much pain. This cut deeper than I would have liked to admit. It only redefined and brought to my attention the never ending gap between Bella and myself. She would move on--as I wanted, I reminded myself--and I would remain. Would she ever know the depth of my love? I would give anything, even this wretched state now, to insure her safety. I would let that witch Jane loose on me if it guaranteed that Bella would continue her normal human life. Just, I winced at how short my time with her had been, a year ago I would not have done that. The flood of emotions that racked my body in the past year was inexplicable. I had felt jealousy, love, and desire in one brief period. I knew, as I had tried to deny until that moment, that staying away from Bella was torture. I would admit it. Previously I had denied it. I had believed that this was acceptable. That this state that I was currently in would--not diminish, for I knew it would never--only escalate over time. I had denied the fact that it was torture because torture referred to a pain, a secret or reason to be pained for. Though I knew this was painful, excruciatingly so, I never claimed it was torture. This was worth the reason, the secret. I would suffer gladly for Bella, willingly. Love changed you in undeniable ways, this was simply one. But claiming that this pain was torture suddenly didn't seem like a tarnishing element of our love. It proved, rather, the extent of our love. It showed me that I would suffer in physical pain without her.

Suddenly, I unwillingly remembered another attempt when I had tried to stay away from Bella. Though she may not have realized how much it hurt me, I had suffered during the weeks that I had ignored her. After the car accident I had promised my family never to contact her again. It wasn't right for us to get involved with the humans. That would lead to exposure which would danger not only myself but all of my family. I owed them better. And, it was harmful to our family as well as Bella. Too much information would mean that she would, I winced, have to be destroyed. In an attempt to save her life I had forced myself never to talk to her again. It had been agony. But, I reminded myself, I didn't truly know I was in love with her then. I had been warned by Alice that I would fall in love, but I hadn't fully realized it myself. At that time I hadn't crept into her room. I hadn't heard her whisper my name through her subconciously controlled lips, watching her dark hair flow across her pillow, seeing the moon's luminescent dance across her translucent skin. I shuddered, sobbing soundless tears. Surely it was different now? I knew I truly loved her. I knew that and it fueled this now. My actions, the only reason I was gone from her side know was because of this love. I adored her more than she would every know, and it was for this singular reason that I had gone. I knew I wasn't good enough for her, I would never be. Surely now I wouldn't fail. Now I would have something other than sheer determination to support me. My love. Using every experience I had lived with her--for I had only really existed when with her.

It would be easier to succeed now, wouldn't it? I hadn't held her in my arms then, I hadn't danced with her, I hadn't taken her to a place that would always be sacred to her. The meadow. The sunlight doused ethereal place. A location I had created for her, a place I wanted to share with her, and her alone. I winced once more, what was I trying to do? Kill myself in anguish? Was that even possible? With that I stopped driving abruptly. It was too much to handle. I couldn't remember every touch, every motion, every expression...I slumped forward against the wheel nearly snapping it off. I leaned over to grab my duffle bag when my fingers hit something hard. I glanced towards to the top pocket noticing the bulge there for the first time. I hadn't been too hasty while packing had I? I unzipped it quickly wondering what could be protruding to produced the form. There sticking out on the top of the bag was the very proof of our love. It was the green plastic lid, the memento from the first time we had truly talked. It was a souvenir, of sorts, that first discussion we had had in the cafeteria. The first time she had agreed to talked with me. My facade crumbled. I pulled the car into the woods and curled on to the ground. Then once again I allowed the pain to wash over my broken heart.


	11. Trail

**Author's Note: I'm not quite sure how many of you have been following the latest scandal in the Twilight Universe, but allow me to quickly fill you in. About a week ago an illegal copy of Midnight Sun was released on the internet. Against my curious nature I refrained from reading it. This was in part due to the fact that I, as an informal writer, would hate for my work to be copied or published without my consent and also due to my respect for Stephenie Meyer as a writer--though I did have some issues with Breaking Dawn. Today (August 28th) Stephenie released the unfinished manuscript on her website. This was a very good piece of news, it really allowed me to get a better grasp of Edward's voice, but inevitably bad news followed. Stephenie has also released that she has put Midnight Sun on hold, and it may very well never be published. So, after reading the tantalizingly wonderful Midnight Sun I finally was re-inspired to write. ALSO: I was happy that some of the things that I had written about were part of the story, i.e. the bottle cap! Rant over. **

**Here is Chapter 11. Please note I have updated the previous chapter, you may want to look because it is the premise of this one. Thanks for reading, and as always, please review. **

**Disclaimer: The fact that I am unduly obsessed with the Twilight series does not strengthen any claim I might have to the series. Basically, I own nada. **

Chapter 11

By Itaque

I released the tight hold my arms had created around my legs and stood up. I glanced at my surroundings, dazed and confused. It was almost--though I knew it was impossible--like I had slipped in to a coma, dare I say it, sleep like state. However unlike any memories I retained of sleep this was neither peaceful nor restful. This was hardly a reprieve from the constant insomnia, if anything it was a haze, a dull painful nightmare charged episode that lasted indefinitely. To put it lightly, it left me confused. It left me wondering what I was doing, and then that led to the obvious query of why I was doing it which in turn left me feeling miserable beyond words. It was as though I was finally acknowledging what I had kept locked up. That mysterious door I continually shied away from. That door had been opened, its gilded doorknob had swung forth and unveiled what I had been trying to hide. I was miserable. Wholly and completely. I knew the pain would not get better. I knew there was no release to the madness. It wasn't the pain or the agony or any of the nightmarish memories that plagued me that had me disillusioned. It was the fact that I would never, ever be able to see Bella again. It was like having a terminal illness and knowing the cure, yet refraining from reaching out an procuring the remedy. It wasn't the pain I wanted to heal. It was the hollow feeling, the sense that my non-existent heart had been ripped out.

Something was missing. That something was _her_. Bella, just to say her name, mentally not verbally, was the bittersweet release. It was blissful reminding myself of her presence--something I had almost begun to doubt. After all I had no proof of her existence. Just my perfect memories, that were but what their name suggested, memories. There was of course the very object that had triggered my collapse. That infernally beautiful plastic green bottle cap. It was in this tiny scrap of recycled material that I found solace. It was a physical proof of a memory, a token of her yes. Her yes. That simple answer, the response to my insistent questioning, the first time she ever answered me. The first conversation we had. My mind pulled a memory out of that previously locked closet, it was from that conversation we had with the green bottle cap. I remembered her long fragile fingertips twirling the cap slowly, unconscious as she leaned closer and closer to me. Her flowing hair grazing the cheap wood table, her endlessly deep eyes gazing down. The cap continue to turn. I like the love I had grasped from Bella had snatched that too away. I had held never allowing it to stop, continuing to twirl it. I leaned towards the cap breathing, I could smell the whiff of citrus and the scent a scent so potently strong despite the distance. Agony racked my frame. Bella. Her fragrance that freesia flower mixing with the mild scent of a fragraria rosacea shampoo. Her fragrance was a poignant tantalizing mixture. However it reminded me of what I truly was, because even after that time my mouth watered with excess venom. I swallowed and returned to the memory that had been replaying itself in my head. _"I'm trying to figure out what you are," Bella murmured. I remembered the panic that had attacked me when she had uttered those words. "Are you having any luck with that?" I had responded holding my stress in, but barely..."So as long as I'm being..not smart, we can be friends?" She had asked...Friends... _Once again I had watched that spinning plastic lid. It whirled scratching its path across the table, charting the the course of our journey. I knew all to well how that journey had ended. James. That reminded me of Victoria. Of where I was, in the midst of the Canadian wilderness. What was the time now? How many days had passed? I quickly felt my pocket to reach for the cell phone out of habit, though I knew would not be there. I hadn't bothered to call anyone for a while. I may not have even brought it with me. I wasn't used to forgetting things. I must have been too preoccupied.

I turned toward my bag and quickly sifted through the articles of clothing. My suspicions were correct. The cell phone was not there. This did not help the issue of when it was. I had looked up at the sky seeing the dawn glowing streak peek through the forest. The last I had remembered it was around twilight. I focused now zeroing in on things a human would not have noticed. Despite my already cold body temperature I could detect a four point seven degree drop in the temperature. The bark of the trees had begun to darken, the trees were covered in a thin stubble of frost. Each leaf was coated in an icy layer. The ice looked a few days old. I glanced back around at my surroundings then I looked down at myself. I stared at what I was wearing in disgust. I hadn't bothered to change in over a week, and there was a splatter of blood across my left pant leg. How careless. I quickly pulled out a grey shirt and pair of dark jeans. I changed swiftly and moved back to the car. Luckily there was a GPS built in, if it could locate me in the middle of the Canadian Wilderness then it probably could tell me the date. Hopefully. As I neared the car I noticed a thin layer of dust and leaves that had fallen from the trees above. How long had I collapsed? I entered the car swiftly and I glanced toward the the screen of the GPS. As it slowly flickered to life I impatiently drummed my fingers. Now that I had drowned in pain I was anxious to make up for lost time. By no means had the contents of that locked door been resolved, it was more that they had been overwhelmed by a more pressing urge, or distracting one at the least, that bade me to protect Bella. I needed to find Victoria. I mentally tabulated the date as the machine continued to start up. It had been October 5th when I had begun to track Victoria once again. Now, what was it? The cold weather, dusty car, and icy forest indicated that time had certainly passed. But how much? Had a sudden cold spell overcome this area of the country? Had it been just about ten hours? It certainly felt longer. But surely it couldn't have been more than a two days, right? Finally the screen of the GPS welcomed me, brightening to show today's date. NOVEMBER TENTH.

I stared uncomprehendingly at the machine. Over a month? Perhaps the machine had broken, you never could be sure. I glanced back up at the gray sky. Then I slowly reviewed what I had unconsciously picked up as I had been inflicted with pain. The extreme cool that hit my face for a while, the sounds of animals slowing down and starting to hibernate, the pelting of rain, and--was it?--hail. November. What?! I had lost track of Victoria for over thirty days, who knew what destruction she had reeked upon the innocents! It was that brief strain of a thought that reminded me why I was here and made me question my motives. Protector of the innocents, valiant against the evil, it all suddenly came together. I had, and it hurt me to think so, almost returned to my old days. The days when destruction was synonymous with confidence. The time when I would dispose, to put it lightly, of who I thought was too filthy to walk the earth. Surely it wasn't that now? I would stop with Victoria, clear the world of that little imperfection, and never hunt or kill again. I was confronted with the question, what would I do?

As a vampire I was used to never having any friends besides my family. Any single human I would meet would either pose as temptation or irritation. Humans were such flitting, brief things. Their brief candlelight life would flicker on and off, their hopes, their dreams, would never be like mine. It was strange but I actually learned the most last year. I learned about a very special candlelight, Bella. I found someone I could truly be with, but left her for the better, I reminded myself. I felt like I had been repeating the same thing numerous times. I had wrestled with this unruly chasm one time too many. I was ready to--not move on--but to move. I would, despite my earlier revelation, continue what I had started.


	12. Author's Note Again

**Author's Note: I find it hard to update in large blocks quite frequently as summer is drawing to a close. I have wanted to update, (and there will be a new chapter following this message) but find it hard to add snippets of chapters to then grow on. Several people end up reading the snippet and may end up confused about the next chapter (the personal messages I have received seem to attest that fact). So, I have decided to update with larger blocks of material at specific times. I am uncertain at this point as to what day this update, or updates will be, if you have any suggestions please share. As always, please review, for it is quite disappointing to write 3,000 words only to get feedback from 2 people. Again, anonymous reviews are allowed! **

Thanks for being amazing readers,

Itaque

UPDATE: It appears that I cannot upload new documents to post. I had thought I had put an extra chapter on there, but it doesn't appear to have come up. I will try again, but know, that some where on my person more of Edward's story exists!

UPDATE of the update: It amazes me how many new people have begun to read my tiny epistle! I will be updating with a chapter later today but I wanted to express my thanks and, of course, beg for your reviews!

Finally though it may seem like a lifetime (a very short one at that!) I have got the fan fiction website to cooperate, let the moping begin! Also please see the previous chapter I added more on to it!


	13. Journey

**I've added quite a bit (about 1000 more words) and wanted it with you, keep in mind it is still a work in progress. The last paragraph is a brief glance of what's to come (in case you've had your share of Edward's lengthy ruminations) which includes: fencing, dialouge, strange rock formations, an airport, Holden Caufield, and the fall of the Roman Empire. So, is it exorbitantly cheesy if I say "please stay tuned"?**

**Also, I seriously believe this story needs a new title. The current one is quite bland. If you have any suggestions please comment/review/PM (anonymous review are acceptable!) In addition I have installed a new resolution that I will reply to every one of your reviews. Also a quick update (if you see this as a new chapter please excuse me, I just desired to add this in!) thank you for the several people who have reviewed so far. I really am quite enthusiastic that I've broken the fifty reviews barrier, next goal is one hundred (this is probably quite unrealistic, however anyone who reads this has the power to allow this to occur!)**

**Sincerely,**

**Itaque**

**Disclaimer: Even though I've watched the new Twilight trailer several dozen times, it still doesn't increase any claim I own on Twilight. In other words, Twilight may own me, however I shall never own it. **

Victoria. Her name coursed through my head like the vilest curse word. Perhaps immortality had made me lazy, I pondered. Why was it now, when I was actually presented with a challenge-of sorts, that my powers felt useless? I was having trouble concentrating on something that should require no concentration. I needed to run. That would clear my head. I pushed my legs out behind me until the ground was speeding past. Running was something that's hard to explain. For me its almost a motion, for many it's a struggle. I vaguely remembered the human pang of pain I would feel every time I tried to run. I still, though it was a memory obscured like the boldest of Monet's paintings, remembered the first day I ran. In my previous life, or only life depending on how you looked at it, I had a simpler mind. It had happened when I was only a child and I remember that the object of pursuit had been a small dog we had recently acquired. The dog, whose name was lost like so many other things in my mind, had set off across the large lawn behind our house. I had begun, out of no accord of my own, to sprint after the dog. It was strange the feeling that filled me. After being used to crawling, then taking stumbling steps, and finally running, the last was unlike any other experience. Perhaps it was the thrill of speed that I enjoyed. Or maybe I was just crazy.

I pulled myself from the memory and glanced around. The trees were thickening now as I reached the center of the forest. In addition I began to hear a slight pouring noise, almost like that of a slow moving stream or small waterfall, about a mile away to the northeast. I had nothing better to do, huge amazement, and thus followed aforementioned noise to unknown destination using a route heading due northeast. If I kept voicing my thoughts as such I could have a career in the GPS industry. To bad the mistakes I constantly made were never followed by a "U-turn if possible." Despite the fairly cliched sense of the phrase, I felt like I was off the beaten path at this point. There was no, and never had been, any point to the journey I had embarked on. Perhaps this made me more depressed, or perhaps it just certified all I had deemed true. I couldn't tell. I drew my attention back to my surroundings, gathering details as I was closer to the the river. I began to realize--because of the movement of the noise--that the river was surrounded by rocks on either side. Almost like the stream, and/or river, was winding through a narrow stone chasm. I continued quicker, a sense of exercise and purpose drawing me closer rather than curiosity. As finally the only thing obstructing my view was the low hanging branch of a Sugar Maple tree, I could understand the body of water below. It appeared as though the water was run-off water from snow but, in addition to carving the chasm I had suspected, it also created a series of potholes on the riverbed. On this pitted surface light danced and flittered across and illuminated sections of the holes. The sunlight cast a murky tone to the deeper holes that a normal eye would not have been able to see. There was a greenish ethereal tinge to the water, the parts that were scintillating from light seemed to be made of silver. It was a place which I knew I would have loved to go. It was a place that I would have been able to meditate and ruminate and possibly just read, but that was gone. I could no longer do any of those things. Now it was just a reminder of something I would have liked to share with Bella. A scene, a picture, something, I loved showing her them because even though I could never predict her reaction, I would be happy just to share the moment with her. I don't know whether it was out of despair or possibly hysteria, but I nearly lost myself. The fact that I could never share anything with her again, and that things that I would always want to show her I would never ever get to see with her. I decided, out of a fit of desperation, to pretend. To fake my multifacceted mind into believing that she was here with me. That was only thing that saved me from emotional collapse. I knew that if I concentrated, her face would once again be illuminated. So I closed my eyes and very carefully thought of her face.

It flashed forward all to eager to be remembered. There it was and for a moment it appeared that Bella was right beside me. I knew, my subconscious knew, and any fool watching me knew, that she was not here. That didn't matter. I desired not to trick my mind but to simply ease it, or torture it depending on how you viewed it. I imagined her standing about ten feet away, wearing the blue shirt that fit her so well. That half smile, as tantalizing as Mona Lisa's and as mysterious as well, lay resting upon her perfectly delicate face. She began to walk towards me, her gait was calm and contained. Then, out of no accord of her own, she tripped. I almost smiled, she had not changed. She stood up pushing herself up off the floor of the forest with a chagrined expression on her face. I longed to move closer to her, I wished to make her walk easier, but I found myself immobilized. Caught like a blind man first exposed to light, or moth to a lamp, I was fixed to my position. She continued glancing down towards the stream, a curious expression dancing across her face. She opened her mouth and said, "What is this?" It was wrong. Not just the fantasy I had partaken in, but her voice as well. Suddenly I saw the flaws in the image I had created. The way her hair fell was wrong, yet I couldn't remember exactly how it was supposed to be. Her voice was off, the cadence didn't match Bella's in real life. But more so, the essence, the idea that made her more than just a body with a voice was missing. That was key. That was I had fallen in love with, and that, had to be, the thing my memory could never capture. I turned away, disgusted by the beauty of the rock and river behind me and began running again. I continued swiftly this time, ignoring my thoughts, focusing only on counting the breaths I took and my footsteps as I raced through the foliage.

I slowed down once I reached the the clearing near where I had left the car. I stopped briefly and then walked quickly towards the car and reached in a few seconds, so perhaps I wasn't loosing all my gifts after all. I started to try to climb in only to realize that I didn't have the keys with me. That was odd, I had them in my pocket last, didn't I? I scanned my pockets only to realize I wasn't sure where my leather duffle bag was. I sped back to the site of my previous lapse in mental stability—as I preferred to think of it, rather than going possibly senile, after all, 108 was quite old—and found the bag. Again I chided myself, how careless had I been? I made my way back to the car pulled out the keys from the bag with relief and entered. The temperature of the car would have made the average human sick with hypothermia but I didn't even notice it.

I began driving in almost a mindless fashion. I was tired, though an oxymoron it was true. I, the supposed villanous creature incapable of sleep, desired a brief respite from the world I was in. The only equivalent I had was the following of random errant paths of my concious. The journey to loose myself within my own head. I started musing about another issue that had bothered me. I had often wondered what I would have traded if after those first few years of my existence, there had been a way go back to my human life. My sight, my wealth, my memory? What were they worth in comparison to all I had given up? Now I knew that answer would be different. Despite the hazy dull physical pain that clouded my forehead I knew the reason for my answer. Bella. I had thought her name countless times yet it still felt to few. I realized why I felt so different, besides the obvious. Was it pathetic that I automatically remembered her words from one of the first days of our courtship? Was it strange to recall the fragile blush of her skin as she denied her own beauty? For a human perhaps, but for me it was not. I returned to the strand of thought I had been thinking about: why I felt different. I abruptly glanced back at the digital clock on the dashboard reading the seemingly stagnant numbers. The milliseconds trickled by until the numbers finally shifted. With my eyes I could see the flicker as the tiny legs that comprised the numbers lit up. I could see the slow change as lights turned on and off. Finally the digital clock was done changing. Thought about the gradual change, the way some may compose music. Composing was something that was sporadic. It was more of a rare or random event than a structured evolutionary process of lyrics and ideas. I had never told Bella but there were actually words to the melody I had composed for her. I supose it wouldn't have mattered whether I shared the fact with her or not, for she could never hear the melody. It was one more thing that pulled us apart. The tune had flowed in and out of the piano's song at a pitch too high for a human. I had thought of it, almost immediately, that day in the meadow. The burning electrified feeling of her fingers as they wound their course across my hand immediately triggered a set of verses. The words were poetry, a strange sense of the word but poetry none the less. Unlike the lyricists of today, people who seemed to combine damn, hot, and boots to create garbage, this was different. It was old fashioned, I must admit. The words were more like one of an Oliver Wendell Holmes poem than that of Akon. Would she have liked it? Had I been able to transpose it to a lower key, what would she have thought? My mind was already running through the vocal composition lowering the notes down three octaves. Perhaps there would be a way, maybe, if I recorded the song to give it to her. I could even Fedex it without a return address so she would never know. NO. I was not supposed to intrude on her life in such a manner. That was the final promise I had made to her, and it was one I intended to keep.

I pulled my attention back to the clock unsure what I was getting from doing this. I struggled, something weirdly out of place, to return yet again to what I was previously thinking about. Change. I had suspected it before, but had never truly been sure, that I was relatively emotional devoid. My family's concerned glance and Esme's constant worrying had hinted towards the fact, but I had tried to unsuccesfully ingore it. I supposed I had only been trying to protect myself. I had just been attempting to ignore what would have only supported the claim that my life was dull and quite useless. It was strange how much one could change in such a short span of time. Had Alice seen in any of the plethora of images that she received, this outcome? Did she know from the fateful day Carlisle and I had decided to come to the Pacific Northwest that this is where it would lead? How would anyone have known what could happen in a mere year. I had lived, truly, that past year. I had experienced more emotions than I had my entire existence. Jealousy, possessiveness, happiness, and finally, love. These were things that Bella had shown me, ideas that were non-existent to me before. Of course, I had always known such emotions existed. However knowing the presence of something and actually feeling something are two independent and completely different items. And now, now, what was I? Had I returned to my previous state? Even I knew the answer to that one. I could never be the same. I would never be able to exist emotionless having felt the intensity of reality. What did Alice see now? Alice's mind might be empty, for she had told me that staying away from Bella would defy fate itself. Should I be proud of that fact? The idea that every day of this self-induced purgatory was a victory? No, I couldn't be proud. I couldn't because nothing about this journey was self-indulging. Nothing about this was for me. This journey was to save what I had selfishly stolen. And hopefully it would remain that way.

I was stuck in a library. A dark and slightly humid one. There was no internet, electricity or air conditioning. The place had an air of a forgotten chapel; laced with an absence of people yet seemingly full. In dark shrouded corners imagined readers crouch reveling in the silence. Others, however, chose to place themselves next to the windows like moths to a lamp. It was silent. The rows of books surrounded me like troops of warriors, standing tall and straight yet unmoving. The gleaming spines of the books were illuminated by the cloudy light. It almost made one feel ashamed for moving so much. As if sitting on the shelf day after day must be tedium enough, why was I agitated? Outside it continues to thunder as though reminding me why it is so dark. Yet amid this place was an air of solitude. Whether it was dull quiet of tapping keys or the pattering of rain. There is no light. The desk I was at sat alone amid the rows of books, no light penetrated this far. It felt illicit as though I was in breach of some contract. Like strolling through the rows of an abandoned classroom it felt much the same. It is as though I was interrupting in something private, a time when the books would be alone. A time when they could spring forth from the shelves and finally give up on maintaining a façade of innocence.


	14. Reminiscing

**Updated Author's Note: Dear Readers, I have updated this chapter but I'll be starting a new one next week. Feel free to read this if you haven't already, I don't have the heart to delete this rant yet: over the past six days I have traveled about ten thousand miles—or at least it feels like something akin to that—and read at the least 200,000 words worth of fan fictions. You may be asking, why am I telling you this? Why am I wasting your time? While I'm not truly sure of the answer for the last question, I do have one for the first. Allow me to preface the argument with a simple reason/idea. While different authors choose to utilize these author's notes for different purposes I try to use mine as a way to communicate something I've been ruminating about. The past week I was increasingly depressed by the lack of care while writing fan fictions, and a disturbing truth I've discovered. The first is that utter irresponsible manner in which some writers choose to express their thoughts. There is nothing more annoying than an Edward POV story that says "I wanna" or "yo Emmett" or any other ridiculous jargon that emulates a baggy-panted teenage hoodlum. The second is rather a personal pet peeve, I dislike when people say "cuteness" or any term of endearment that makes Bella appear five. Now at this point you may be asking why I'm complaining, in reality I am asking for your help. Please if you see any of the above in my writing **_**tell **_**me. I would hate to be a hypocrite, and would love to improve my work.**

**The second point is that after re-reading Stephenie Meyer's Midnight Sun I've realized that Edward has this wry sardonic sense of humor. For this I've spent some time reworking what I had planned and trying to make this, well, funnier. I hope that those of you who have a vacation on this fine November weekend are enjoying it, and that you who have this extra precious time will take a moment to read this story and review. Please.**

_Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. Period. Oh, and in addition I am in no way insinuating that I own/have created any of the following characters in the story. Nor do I own Sophie Kinsella's Confessions of a Shopaholic_

_Reminiscing_

_By Itaque_

A strange tune was pulsing through my head as I left the abandoned library. I checked my surroundings to make sure I wasn't just catching the conscious of an errant human. There was no one. I supposed the song was in my head, an idea stranger than the fact that I was alone—almost humming—in an abandoned library. It was not often that I composed, the activity was neither planned nor anticipated. Yet, there was a core sense, a sort of predictability that accompanied composing, this was—while cheesy—love. I had truly composed only twice, well three actually, if you included Alice's tune. The first had been Esme's song. It was a brief movement based on the compassion that Esme so willingly bequeathed upon me, reminding me so much of my own human mother. I began to think about the second, processing the songs as though they were mechanical tasks on a list. The Second song. In some cases the only song, the main truest song I had ever written. That song was for Bella. Bella, that sweet intangibly poignant creature. And that song which could be described using all the aforementioned adjectives. That song was her, at least an essence I had hoped to capture. Of course the song was, like many other things, impossible to keep forever.

I had recorded the song only once, on a cheap CD, other than that it would never exist to the minds of so many. I would always remember it, my family as well, but Bella? The song would slip out of her mind after years of never hearing it. It was one of those terrifying puzzles, when you know something exists—in this case the song—yet the world will never know it since it will be locked in your mind. As a rather private person I didn't mind the fact that the world would never know. It was better, after all, the idea of a vampire musician was more of a hoax than Grammy-worthy material. The irration was not even spurred because of a need to share the melody with the world. It was more than that, it was something philosophically inherent in every person. How would it be remembered? If the existence of an object was based solely on how long it was thought of and remembered, would it cease to exist after a point. In that manner would everything that had transpired over the past year be forgotten, and lost, as well? There was a odd sense, almost like I was reconciling myself to the fact that after a point the past year would be little more than a memory. There was no substantial proof, besides my memories, that would last with anyone. Perhaps, amid my reasoning, the anyone who I cared about so much was Bella. No substantial proof would be left with her of my existence. Had that not been what I wanted? Before I left did I not removed all traces that I had interrupted her life? But I still had to remember the fact that I had left things behind. The CD, the pictures, they were all under the floorboards. Well, most of the photos, I had actually taken one, just so that way I would always have some proof of her life. But, being the complete idiot I was I had left it among the scattered boxes that had surrounded my new room. I tried to convince myself I wasn't thinking when I left my family, I wasn't sure of where I was going. For that reason I had left the picture, the one that show the painful disparity between lethality of me next to her fragile form, at the house or I suppose what would have been my new home. I could have left clues. I could have let her know that they existed just under the soles of her petite feet. But I hadn't. And I wouldn't. It was selfish of me to think that I should make her suffer more, by leaving things behind, just so she would remember me.

I stood in front of the old library staring up at this dull, seemingly lifeless windows. I could see various details, one that were more apparent to me than anyone else. The light layer of dust on a fake plant in a windowsill, the calendar on the circulation desk bearing the date 1954, the rusted old returns box, but more importantly there was an ever-pervading sense of death. An idea that this place, one once so filled with life and laughter, was now empty. It was strange but some actually believed paranormal presences existed in such locations. The idea of ghosts, though I was a mythical monster myself, still seemed ludicrous. However, it wasn't simply that I denied the presence of people after death, it was more that I sought to see a practical scientific reason. I know, the rational and skeptical vampire. I thought that the energy possesed so strongly by humans had to travel somewhere after they died, yet I wasn't sure quite were. I would never know either. It appeared that some humans had fields of energy surrounding them, this was what Jasper had observed. So an absence of such a field, I mused, would thus result in a type of vacuum. This then would be the cold spots, or areas that seemed disturbingly empty. Or perhaps nothing happened.

The idea of emptiness, that strange feeling, that something was out of place and missing from the world triggered another memory. It was from when Carlisle had worked as a doctor in the Vancouver Barracks Hospital during World War II. Later on our way over to Hoquiam, we had stopped back in at the hospital, a brief visit out of curiosity for how it had changed. The building seemed to be stills out of an old black and white movie, the air was thick and foggy, there was again this feeling that no one had been there, while it used to be a place that was so filled with people. The fading, dull white walls seemed to hold the thousands of stories of the wounded soldiers that had been brought there. The whole building seemed to have reached, more than a state of disrepair, a sense of peaceful stillness. That was only my reflection of our second visit there. But during our first trip, while I was still only twenty years old--old, nay, mature even in human terms yet brief pages in the life of an immortal--I had fought the monster with in me. The temptation then had been omnipresent, a sort of never ending thirst. An insatiable desire for more. The excruciating burning that lined the walls of my throat was inexplicable. It would have killed ten times over any human, only my unnatural inhumanity allowed me to endure. However, there had been several different currents under the surface, other than the blood lust. More than the burning desire for blood that I had fought so hard for so long, I had been perversely envious of the dead and wounded that had arrived at the hospital. Their bloody amputated appendages signified something I would never have. I would never be able to feel pain, I would never be able to die, I would forever be trapped in this existence. The thousands of humans that passed through the hospital, almost foreshadowed the rest of my existence. I would be that omniscent narrator of the lives of the countless people I would encounter. They would continue their cycle of life and death, growth and decay, while I remained stuck. The unnatural monster trapped among the innocent. It was hard to express the rage that possessed me back during the end of my rebellious age. While I had neither remained satisfied with the twisted way of life I had taken, I was filled with self-loathing towards what I was, and what I had become. I felt sometimes like asking why it was me that had to become the vampire. I suppose my mother had been naive, pleading with him, then again she had never known the full extent of his powers and what he would have to do to help me. Why had Carlisle chosen me? I wasn't as though I had asked him, and he certainly hadn't given me a choice. I couldn't continue that train of thought for I knew, despite how I might blame my surrogate father, his very thoughts. I could read the sadness he continually he saw as he saw what he had done and created. So for the same reasons I had returned to my family after my rebellious stage, I had forgiven my father.

My father, my mother, my family. They were all gone, yet I still remained. In a sense the only thing left with me, was truly only myself. Every other object be it person or item was merely transient, a floating mark in my life. There, behind me, was another of the objects that entered and left my life sporadically. I turned back to the car, a now oddly familiar Porsche, that rested in a pool of light beside the curb. I got in as quiet as possible, hoping not to disturb the many sleeping humans, and then out of pure unadulterated whim, I slammed down--albeit relatively gently for my strength--on the pedal and fishtailed out of the dead end. I sped quickly through the deserted town, hearing the surprise of the waking humans. The car was still in a relatively good shape considering I had used it as all road terrain for over a month. Had it really been that long? Then as I screeched on to the highway leading out of the town I noticed a faint clicking noise. Something I would definitely have not known had I not lived/suffered through almost a century of Rosalie. The noise was getting louder, slowly and gradually with a sense of inevitable doom. Then all of a sudden the noise suddenly registered in my head. It was part of the fuel tank, the needle that would usually reach the top of the gas was scraping the bottom as the tank was completely empty. When was the last time I had bothered to fill gas? I decreased my speed, just slightly, and veered on to the nearest exit. Something about the landscape had felt familiar. Had I passed through here before? Was is someplace I had visited with Carlisle earlier? Then, once again, it fell in to place. It was the image gleaned from the head of the woman I had previously procured the whereabouts of Victoria from. She had remembered the lady asking for a certain location and then associated it with her previous trip there. Could this seemingly random stop held some interest to Victoria? Were my tracking skills so bad that I had to stumble into what I was looking for? I didn't really want to ponder the answer to the last question, there was a high chance it was true though.

The exit brought me in to yet another small dismal Canadian town. The area was deserted and the trees were plentiful, stretching for miles on either side of the road. A faded fast food sign indicated "Chili-cheese dogs $7.99" though it appeared as though no one had been in the store for at least a month. I continued to drive slowly through the down, the same sites of abandonment striking me quickly. Unweeded yards, piles of soggy newspapers by front doors, the houses along the supposed main street of this town were forgotten, alone, and disintegrating. Having exhausted my optical analysis I turned to my mind. I attuned myself for any heartbeats, thoughts, or dreams. There were none in the immediate vicinity. I could hear the throbbing pulse of humans just a few miles away on the highway but there was nothing around me. What could have made the inhabitants leave? Why were they gone? I turned of the main street cruising slowly along the narrow gravel paths. The same state of moving had appeared to continue. Here, however, a difference became apparent. I saw that the moving had been done in waves. First the people of houses along the main street had relocated, then the trend had spread back farther and farther away from town. The houses here were still abandoned yet the seemed to have been left later. The porch swings hadn't fallen completely, the paint showed a thinning of a first layer but had not peeled, the garden gnomes that stood watch over the untended gardens were not decimated from nature's wake, but still the newspapers in the same soggy heaps remained, there were just fewer. Newspapers they had been the one constant thing within this enigma. It appeared a solution could be derived from their presence, they would tell me why this town was empty. What was the purpose of a newspaper after all? A trite brief moment of time? A paper, so redundant in its reporting, printed nearly every day of every year. They built up, useful once but never good markers of time. What they managed to capture, though, were events. Something would substancial enough to make people move would have been reported in any half-way decent paper. I stopped the car and ran quickly around town, confident now that there were no humans. I got back to the car with fifteen samples of newspapers to parse through. I opened it up and was struck by the last time I had psychically held a paper. Then it had been the news of Forks, Washington.

My mind reconnected the paper with two events. That fateful crumbling day when I had held the paper with notes of Bella's disappearance, brief though existent. Then another memory resurfaced, this one had occurred during our summer vacation. That vacation, a utopia for me at least, it was pressed in to my presence like a dried flower among the listless pages of the story of my life. Albeit dramatic, the preserved fauna was like the memories all I had left. That day had started out perfectly, after sleeping with Bella through the night she had woken early and awake. So many images flashed back: the thin quilt over her fragile legs, her eyes starry and awake, and her neck, stretching out to awaken the muscle as well. That neck, slender and translucent, it was easy discern the thin blue veins, pumping sweet blood. My Achilles heel. Despite that I had restrained myself, I'd kissed her,enough to drive me mad yet still, as always, gentle. Then she had disappeared for her human moment, and I had run back home to change and prepare for the day. Among our lazy summer that day had been one we had actually planned. I was planning on taking her to one of my usual haunts--another meadow of sorts yet this one was smaller, more grassy, and nestled in between the trees--so we could read. I supposed that she would have read, this idea had filled me with sadness. It was another reason why I would never truly be like her. While she could ponder over every word slowly, as though tasting a sweet, I couldn't. My mind would process it too quickly. I would be done before she had started the next word. Why was I doing this? Why did I place my cruel mark on her every action? Did have to ruin this activity for her as well? Being Bella she would no doubt find some problem in my finishing early, though I had no clue what it was. It was just another enigma of her mind. Yet the whole day trip had been her idea, I had asked her what she had wanted willing to give her anything in the world, seriously. I had been debating about just presenting her with the Burj Al Arab, a hotel I had thought would be nice with her name or simply giving her the town of Antanambaobe, Madagascar. Instead she infallibly chose a day with me, or more specifically a day reading with me. I had prepared a variety of material for reading, books (after much reasoning she had conceeded), magazines, and of course newspapers.

We had hiked, or rather, we had begun by walking over the twisted gnarled roots. Bella had tripped about seventeen times before I had offered to run her to the spot. It wasn't that I disliked running with her, in fact it was that I loved running with her. Too much. I knew, and this tainted every moment, that I would have to leave Bella. It was the sad inevitable fact I was suffering through now. Running with her would only shorten the time we could spend together walking, and whether I would like to admit it or not, it would have made me all the more reluctant to leave. I had agreed picking her up and cradling her in front of me since my backpack with the reading material was already on my back. Running with her before me was unlike anything else. I had previously told her running was second nature to me, effortless, but then as absorbed as I was in her depthless eyes, it was a wonder I didn't crash in to anything.

We quickly reached the meadow like clearing I had prepared. Though we were judicious with our animal hunting, it was just too tempting to have the power to shape nature and to not utilize so I had created a small clearing, thoroughly careful of course. Bella probably would not have known the difference between this one and the natural one I had shown her before. We sat down after I had laid out a blanket Alice had selected. I remembered the giant ordeal Alice had created about picking the prefect blanket, no doubt trying to overdo the little task I had given her. She had run through 17, 934 different shades of blue comparing each to the color of the shirt that she had lent Bella to wear, though Alice had really never worn the blouse and just purchased for the "occasion." Finally after arguing with me about the merits of raw silk, she had agreed on a sensible Cortland throw that was a deep royal blue. Bella, oblivious to the planning that had gone in to the event, sat down on the blanket. I had smiled and sat down next to her, placing the basket next to me.

"So, what splendors shall we be feasting upon today? Kafta? Allende? Kinsella? " She had asked, imitating an old Shakespearean play.

I had hesitated before responding, what if didn't like what I had chosen? I had chosen my selections from my very favorite novels. Perhaps my style was too outdated, stuffy, and old fashioned for Bella. For a fact I had no Kafta, Allende, and certainly not any Sophie Kinsella in the basket. I replied never the less "I never thought you to a Shopoholic fan, do you have a secret side I should have revealed to Alice?"

"Why is it a problem if I have a secret desire to be named Rebecca Bloomwood?" She replied after blushing. "Though the idea of being perpetually in debt isn't that appealing…" she continued. Of course, Bella would never be as impractical as to leave her self in thousands of dollars of debt just because of a "must have item". Alice however…

"I'd never thought I would say this but, it appears that you and Rosalie have similar reading tastes." I smiled as she looked slightly aghast. "I'll let you bond with her over Dooney and Burke scarves. Make sure to mention that you love their Zebra Jaquard line, that will make her even happier." I almost burst out laughing over Bella's confused look. She really thought that I expected her to talk to Rosalie about fashion, something even Anna Wintour wouldn't dare to do.

"As much of a role model that I find Rebecca, I still wouldn't mind finding out what you have in the basket." She replied

"Fine," I exaggeratedly said. As I was opening the basket, slowly, I could feel Bella's piqued curiosity. Finally she burst out, "Wait, are there fifty books? Three? Are they fiction, non-fiction, classics, magazines?" then after about thirty seconds of thought she said, "you didn't waste a lot of money buying them, did you? Please say you didn't. I never meant to inconvenience you." I almost laughed at the thought of spending too much on books. I had the firm belief that books were one of life's luxuries that deserved to be bought. Plus with the lifestyle my family had chosen books were never an expense. Nevertheless I didn't think that Bella would be pleased to know that I had considered buying the first editions of all the Austen series for her. "No," replied quickly, "They're from our collection." To assure any suspicions she might have had about the older copies I said, "some were collected over the years by Carlisle, but most by me." She looked back satisfied but, still curious. I opened the basket and carefully dumped out what all I had brought. There were about five novels, a book of short stories, and of course a few newspapers. The newspapers I had brought were not recent, unless one considered 1863, 1776, and 1659 recent. They were years that had specific events, or major dates for the world. Bella looked at the reading material, her face a mixture of delight, wonderment, and awe. Finally she chose the newspaper from 1659 handling the pages, almost as gently as I touched her. I chose a book of Richard Matheson's short stories, bracing myself to pay attention and slow down as to not make Bella feel inadequate. Then as I had begun to read, I looked up and found myself entranced in Bella's actions. When had she not intrigued me? This was certainly not a case. I carefully watched her face as she pored over the lines. Having read the paper before I knew the main contents, reviews about Velasquez's painting "Infanta Maria," the beginning of the Battle of Duchamier and the tiny story about the discovery of "strange creatures" in sewers that the Church wished to ward off. Still I felt I was experiencing this all over again, in a way completely unlike reading by simply watching her face. I saw the emotions flicker across, amusement, horror, sadness as she read the articles. I could only wonder as she read, what had caused those reactions. What had triggered her to smile, what was the reason why she grimaced? My attention had been captured, the whole excursion, simply by her and a newspaper.

Now was not then though. To be clear, this was not the news of London that lay in my hands then. Though I recollected the day as though it was today, that was not the case. The thin newsprint was damp and more worn, the lines of print smudged and unclear--yet not completely illegible.I returned to the present the damp newspaper of Marshall, Canada in my hand.


	15. Tracker

**Author's Note: Hello Readers, how are you this fine December day? I write to you from the throes of writer's block, not necessarily for this piece but rather in general. It may appear that the muse of the Twilight movie is just dying down for me however that is certainly not the case. As the movie has been circulating and opening up around the world it has only strengthened my enthusiasm to continue to write. The past few days however have been absolutely crazy for me, only now have I finally had a chance to sit down and truly add to this story. In addition I'm experimenting with the whole idea of updating less frequently but with more writing. They always do say less is more...In any case I hope you enjoy what I've pieced together today. Also, following with the idea of "more", I had a tiny miniscule favor to ask of you. Would it be possible, gang (yes, I _will_**** still use the term) to reach 100 reviews? I know I've never asked this of you before, and I truly appreciate what you've been telling me in the reviews. I also would hate to be one of those authors that continually berates their readers for reviews. So, here is me, not pressuring you, however consider this more of a goal. **

**As I am still unsure of the consensus of this proposition, I have left it up for you to read: In addition, thank you to all of you who reviewed the past-has it truly only been?-one week. I truly appreciate it, and the constructive criticism helps me more than anything. I've also been considering the idea of having reviewer shout-outs. Perhaps listing off the those who review. This idea came to mind as sometimes there are reviewers that have a great comment or have taken the trouble to consistently give feedback; I would like to reward, or at the least, show my appreciation for them in some way. Please tell me whether you would enjoy this idea or would prefer to remain hidden in the midst of the many comments. While just having your name in the story is no reward, what if I sent you virtual pie as well?**

**This following topic is just a mere tangent, for those of you in search of the story please feel free to proceed. I was looking back through the previous chapters, editing and polishing up some things (you have no idea how much grammar/spelling mistakes bother me) when I realized the gradual crescendo in the legnth of author's notes. Previously they would only be about a line, now I'm writing paragraph long rants! So to spare you from yet another sentence about me/my thoughts, here is the story.**

**Sincerely,**

**Itaque**

_Disclaimer: While it is quite probable that the town of Marshall exists, the author claims no rights over the town, Stephenie Meyer's series, or potatoes. All three were preordained to be intangible, amazing or organic. _

Tracker

_By Itaque_

I quickly peeled off the damp blue plastic encasing of the newspaper, curious now as to what was inside. While the rain had affected the paper, the titles were still discernable.. A smudged date of publication, November 5th, was in the upper right hand corner. I glanced towards the headlines before flipping through the paper _New Statue Erected in Town Square, Diner Adds Healthy Options, _and finally, _Five more Dead. _ The last one caught my attention, and I looked closer to the article.

**_FIVE MORE DEAD _**

_Danger Still in Midst of Marshall and Neighboring Towns_

_By Olivia Lockewoode_

_A series of murders are leaving the innocent inhabitants of Marshall confused, apprehensive, and scared. A former logging town, Marshall, has maintained its relatively low population, 2,657, for about fifty years. This year, however, has brought new surprises._

_The series of murders started about two weeks ago with the death of Mrs. Emma Grant. Mrs. Grant, 53, was killed in the woods behind her house; the victim had supposedly gone for a walk an hour before._

_The second death that followed was that of Mr. Bernard Thacker. Mr. Thacker, 37, was recently chosen to be a student teacher at the town's middle school Sunnyside Elementary. Mr. Thacker was found dead in his garden near his home on the outskirts of town._

_The following eerie pattern has continued with several others of Marshall's and the citizens of the nearby regions. So far there have been five more victims to this attack. Ms. Julie Cochran, Mrs. Hannah Li, Mr. William Pittman, Ms. Alexandra Stevens, and Mr. Robert Duvair._

_As the death toll is only on the rise the Police department warns its citizens to be cautious and wary. Chief of Police, Chandler O'Neil said, "The issue at hand has become too important to ignore. We urge the citizens to take all precautionary measures possible."_

_Police are unsure of what is the cause behind the murders. What was previously thought to be an animal, as all the attacks had been outdoors, is now being considered a human. Recent discovery of crushed bones and bloodless corpses has made the Police wonder who the killer is. On Tuesday the Police found a strand of reddish hair on the victim along with finger sized bruises on their arms. Humans are now being considered._

_If such an escalation of danger continues, evacuation may be considered._

Without continuing to read I could foretell what would have happened. The murders would have escalated, the terror reached a frightening high, until finally leaving was the only option. The following newspapers contained the same information. A bumbling and confused police, a growing death rate, and a frightened community. It was too easy to see what the reason behind this was. Victoria. It appeared that this ghost town had been caused by a vampire. How ironic. Sure as I was, now I just needed some proof, evidence that would lead me to where she had gone, or at least hint at her motives behind cold-blooded slaughter. I got back into the car, driving now so that I could find the true reason for this series of unfortunate events. I had to see the overlapping coincidences, whether I was reading too far in to it-my baised mind clouding all judgement-or not, it was obvious that something unnatural had struck the town of Marshall. That sounded like a catch phrase from a cheap horror movie. What could the horror be? I knew vampires existed but what else? Frankenstein? Unicorns? Werewolves? The ideas were ludicrous, akin to one of a mad man. It was obvious, no human could wreak such damage so efficiently. The source to this enigma had to be a vampire. I went to the first woman's house, Emma Grant. As the article had suggested the little cottage was out of the way and far from the average human's path. It was as though the inhabitant preferred a type of seclusion. It was too unfortunate that this seclusion was perfect for a vampire. Getting out of the car quickly I made my way to the front door. The house, as all the others, was empty. I knew, however, that in her sloppy haste to satiate her thirst Victoria would have left behind crucial clues that a human would not have picked up on.

The house was relatively unfurnished, no doubt stripped of its decor after the death of its owner, it also appeared that Mrs. Grant lived alone a fact that would have made her death even more appealing to a vampire. Less witnesses meant less evidence. As I entered the house I was struck once again by the inherent human scent, one that still clung to the very structure of the house but reminded me someone else. Not now. I'd spent enough time dragging my feet. If I truly cared about _her _I would have captured and killed Victoria by now. I sniffed the air again looking for the distinct smell that I had caught off Victoria that day, which seemed so far back, on the "baseball" field. I went around the linoleum tiled first floor looking for that scent. It could sense that it had been here, before, yet I needed a strong enough whiff in order to make sure my hypothesis was correct. As I neared the forgotten wooden kitchen, shrouded in dark, and made my way to the sliding back door which led into a tiny garden I caught the scent. The newspaper had been wrong, Victoria hadn't killed the woman in the woods, she had killed her in her own house. The scent of human blood, that someone had hastily cleaned-or had drunk-was still noticeable. I moved quickly to where I sensed the smell the strongest. There, beneath the plethora of scents that continuously bombarded me, was an odoriferous curtain. It had ceased to cover the window of the house a while back, yet for some reason the scent, of Victoria, was here the strongest. I followed the scent emitted by the curtain out the back door, tracking it around the forest and over to the house of the next victim, Mr. Thacker.

In his house, also, the murder had been indoors and the man had been left in his garden outside. He had lived alone. I headed back outside following the scent as it led me around the small abandoned town. Finally as nearly every house had been visited it took a turn towards the woods. With the scent on my mind, I ran into the woods ready to follow it wherever it led. The scent's course was quite easy to follow, it had taken the same path I would have had I been running. I was letting my mind wander aimlessly when suddenly I realized that I could no longer smell it. I hurried back the way I had come, catching the point where the scent had veered abruptly to the right. It was as though Victoria had instantaneously changed her mind. I stood there for a moment, dwelling at the crossroads of the change. I decided to go farther ahead, instead of following this trail directly, in order to see whether what caused the change lay ahead. I began running again, scanning the trees for any sign of something unexpected. After about five minutes it was my fortuitous glance that discerned a small shed on the horizon.

I ran quickly towards it, taking note, as it neared that Victoria's scent surrounded it. As I came closer, alert for sounds or signs of movement. There was no unnatural activity. As I moved closer to the house though I realized that it was being kept under surveillance. I climbed up one of the several trees that filled the forest and walked among the branches, following a rather large one that was perpendicular to the building until I was directly above the cabin. As I looked around the perimeter of the building I noticed footprints, heavy ones filled with the scent, not that of Victoria, but of a human or rather humans. I crept back on the branch until I could see the front of the building. The door was boarded up, and an eviction notice had been placed on the door. That explained part of the human scent, the police had no doubt left their trail after dropping off the sign. I looked back to where I had seen the video camera lodged inconspicuously in a tree. It was obvious that something had happened in the cabin, someone had been here, and no one was allowed to enter now. Smelling the distinct scents of both the humans and Victoria, it made me wonder what exactly lay inside. I needed to disable the camera if I truly wanted to go in. While the idea of a camera catching me at the speed I was going now was laughable, not to mention high improbalby, it would still be more prudent that I got rid of it to begin with. I got down from the tree going behind the camera quicker than it would have been able to capture a picture. Then as I went to pick it up and crush it, I noticed the printing on the back of it. It read, PROPERTY OF THE ALBERTA PROVINCE POLICE. Why would a uninhabited secluded shed be monitored by the Alberta Province Police? I had to feel as though the police were slightly daft to leave a camera in the middle of the woods with the hope of catching a criminal. Is that what was/used to be in the cabin, or was it yet another of Victoria's sloppy murders? It was just yet another reason for me to see what exactly was inside. I picked up the camera quickly and despite the fact that I was destroying federal property I pushed my hands together gently, knowing that when I opened it the camera would be dust. I was correct. I then flung the dust in different directions, hearing the soft landing as they finally touched ground 500 feet away. Now that the camera was taken care of I went towards the door of the cabin. This posed a question. In which manner was I supposed to enter the cabin?

After walking around the small shed like building for nearly five minutes I came upon a way to enter. There had seemed to be no other way to enter the cabin except by door. Being a monitored location I wanted to leave as little disturbance as possible. However, I found that if I peeled back two pieces of the vertical split-wood siding I could get in easily. It would be puerile enough to put the two boards back after I finished. Slowly I set to work pulling apart one of the siding pieces. A thought appeared in my mind, one that almost made me loosen my emotionally devoid mask for a second. If a human were to pass now it would appear as though my speed was due to the fact that taking apart the siding was difficult. If only. The true reason behind my actions was the fact that were I to remove the siding in the manner that would be easiest to me, it would no doubt turn to sawdust under the misplaced force of my hands. For that I was stuck gently pulling back, making sure the wood would not snap, while trying to unscrew and pull out the top nail slowly. It was tedious, I would admit it, though ultimately I was rewarded by a passage into the cabin.

The inside of the cabin was all to familiar to me, the same abandoned feeling of the houses, again the scent of Victoria. However this time, the scent wasn't in one spot,one permeating all the objects, it mingled with the scent of humans though Victoria's was much more potent. As I looked up towards the walls and around this one room dwelling I took in the traces of the humanity that had passed. A set of books in a corner, a threadbare rug on the wood floor, and--was it truly--blood. Human blood none the less. I was surprised I hadn't noticed the scent at first. I supposed my entire being shied away from that scent, and the thirst, as it was an all to familiar reminder of what I had left behind. Again one part of my brain, a nearly omnipresent part, brought to surface the pain and agony of this journey. I needed to focus. _You're on to something, Edward_, I told myself. After this attempt at positive reinforcement was unsuccessful I tried more harshly, _don't give up, or at least attempt to stop act like the hapless piece of shit you are now_. Focus, I reminded myself. Again it was easier said than done. I stared back at the trails of human blood that covered part of the wall and areas of the floor. While part of my mind was processing the implications of this evidence, another was disgusted by how sloppily she ate. One would have to be a complete slob to spill so much, and a completely uncouth vampire to not bother to clean up. Oh. This appeared to fit in with the trail I had been following. What would have happened had Victoria left before cleaning? Perhaps, she had gone to hunt again but the police had found her "murder shop" and had surrounded it. It would explain the abrupt change in trail, and the reason for her haste. Something, some part of my wandering brain seemed to click. From the evidence it appeared as though here was where Victoria had brought back her immobilized victims before depositing them near their houses. No wonder the police had barricaded the place. Why had she not just tried to kill the police, though? They would be easy enough to dispose of. An eighth of a second of reasoning gave me the answer: the town was of no importance to her, why put herself on the radar of the police--as she would have had she killed what seemed to smell like eight of their men--with undue reason? So she had skipped town, leaving but after she had made her mark.

There was a sense of satisfaction in discovering something. A sort of grim optimism--a paradox through and through--that allowed me to continue to search and focus. I went around the cabin searching for more clues, an article of clothing, a piece of hair, a footprint at the least. There was nothing. The old piles of newspapers had a date of 1983 remnants of the previous tenants, the motes of dust that rose every time I moved, the corners where filled with dust and cobwebs, and to one end of the room was a set of broken furniture. I stared a part of the wall hoping to see a fissure where something could have been stored behind. I thought I saw something. I rushed towards the area nearly ripping off part of the wall before realizing it had only been a shoddy paint job. I scanned the walls again, taking in the amount of destruction that had gone on was eerie, and down right frightening. I knew I had lived in this manner killing humans before, yet the loss of innocent human life was a deed I had never ever condoned. A careful scanning of the pitted and warped floor showed me that there was actually more clues. Or at least there had been. I walked over the area I had noticed before, my theory was proven. As I walked over the targeted area there was a slight change in the reverberation, a nuance so slight a human would never be able to tell. There was a hollow space under the floorboards, a space where someone may have kept something. Again agony washed over me, and I welcomed it, I remembered the very things I had hidden under the floorboards. A photo, a CD, traces of myself. Of all the things I had ever wanted to give Bella, I had wanted to leave her with a token of my, our, love. Something to reminder that this was possible. Unfortunately if I wanted what was best for her that would be impossible. For her to truly move on, I would need to extricate myself from her life completely. And for that I had left, for that I had hid every tangible memory of our time, and for that I was here now. I was hunting the thing that would threaten her the most. With that thought firmly in my head I turned back to the floorboards and began to slowly peel them back.

I hardly expected anything to be under them, that why it was so surprising when I found things. Wrapped in a beaten black plastic bag were what appeared to be a series of papers. I dumped them on to the floor quickly. It was the handwriting that struck me at first, crude and almost childlike names had been scrawled on to a sheet of paper. What were the words? Towns, acquaintances, victims? There was no doubt that this bundle of papers had been stored by Victoria. For one thing I could tell they were fairly recent, and for another her scent hung over them like caramel around a horribly sugary candied apple. Several sheets were covered in a similar way. Finally, at the bottom of the pile was a map with routes traced out on it. She was heading south.


	16. Son

_Disclaimer: While many a person has been known_

_to speculate without being shown,_

_the whereabouts of Mrs. Meyer, _

_I can assure you most certainly they're_

_Not inside my head._

_Basically, if that slightly random poem did not serve to convey the message, I'm not Stephenie Meyer and own none of the Twilight series. _

**Author's Note: Dear Readers, Yes you are certainly not seeing things. This is a second consecutive update! I must admit that the Cullen conversations have struck an creative chord within me. When you proceed below, to hear about Esme, please don't impale me after reading the some 1,800 words I added. I understand that (SPOILER) I haven't completed the entire Esme/Edward conversation. However this is impart due to the fact that it was simply too irresistible to add some more Edward/Emmett banter including some insightful comments that we all wished someone had told Edward. This Edward/Emmett conversation plus beginning of the Edward/Esme conversation has taken up so much space that I am currently split on what to due. As of now the chapter is 7, 542 words long, the longest yet. Since those of you who are returning for more installments most likely find it tiresome to scroll up and down until you reach the updated section(s) I have been wondering whether to simply add another continuation chapter. That is the current dilemma I face, please let me know what you think via review. Remember as always, a review means more than a thousand words (ironic right?) and anonymous reviews are, as always, acceptable. **

**Thanks again,**

**Itaque**

The Son

By Itaque

Methuen, Weston, Capistrano, Jagoe: a winding trail that had been drawn, one that meandered among cities with no apparent purpose. The ultimate goal, however, was easy to tell, a journey southerly. It would not be a straight course. There appeared to be a main highlighted path that ran from Melville, Saskatchewan east for about two hundred miles, then southeast farther, and finally it turned southwest and landed around Abcaq, Texas. The puzzling part was not the change in direction, or even the seemingly random path, it was the fact that several routes had branched off of this main highlighted one. As though someone had let a child go crazy with a blue pen. After a quick moment I realized that what had appeared to be a mangled millipede was really a series of routes that left the main trail, leading—as always—South. Stranger still were the cities that had been circled: Bloomfield, Niwot, Derby, the list could go on and on. Some had been underlined, others had a tiny question mark beside them. What lay in these cities? Were they former residences, areas with high feeding counts, or I puzzled suspiciously, were they the homes of her allies?

The old adage, "keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer," was a fact that had previously had no bearing on my life. I had no friends, besides my family. I did however find that I was rapidly accumulating enemies, a fact that didn't trouble me as much as it should have. Enemies were items one could take their anger out upon without appearing psychotic. While I tried to find a path that would get me as close to Victoria as possible, so I could kill her, I tried to remember more about her. Whether or not she had a talent, past, or special creation would be vital to my hunt.

My interaction with Victoria had been brief. After I had seen her in the clearing we had literally never interacted again. Carlisle, Rosalie, and I had tried to lead James north while Esme and Emmett had tried to take care of Victoria. That left only my memories from the clearing to aid me. Though it was a day I hated to remember, I forced myself to recollect when I had met James and "his clan." I had picked up on the fact that their alliances seemed to be only for convenience. Laurent had needed James and Victoria to have a clan, Victoria was with James and Laurent for protection, and James had needed Victoria for…what exactly? The fact that had been overlooked in the past, once again rose to my attention. Though I had not missed the faux demonstration of power, I had found it hard to see the relationships between them that night. I'd had a lot on my mind then. The bond between James and Laurent was weak and, as I had seen, Laurent had left the clan easily. He was now in Denali, perhaps I could gather some information about Victoria from him, if I was willing to endure a visit with Tanya and her clan. Wait a second. I tried to calculate today's date, failed, and then referred to my dying cell phone: it was November 20th That meant that Carlisle and Esme would have gone up to Denali for "Thanksgiving Break." The event wasn't a celebrated holiday in the vampire world, however it would have meant a break from working/school for the whole family. Usually we spent it with our closest friends—practically family—the Denali clan. If I contacted my family, a feeling of guilt swept over me, while with the Denali clan and Laurent perhaps I could glean some information about Victoria from him. I opened up the phone and I suddenly felt terrible about my irresponsible actions. There were 329 missed calls/text messages/voice mail messages. In the haste with which I had left, I distinctly remembered promising Esme I would call once a month. Now, nearly two months had passed without any contact, from my end at least.

While I despised the fact, I knew, that there was a reason behind my lack of contact with my family. I would hate to hurt Esme in any way, but I shied away from calling them because it would only show me how they had moved on. It would be proof that they could exist without Bella, that she was no more than a page in their immortal life. She was much more than a page to me, she was the entire book. As cheesy and hopelessly romantic as that sounded, it was utterly true. I knew my family would miss Bella, but regardless of what Alice claimed, she was never as important to them as she would be to me. Their complete happiness, the fact that each of them had their soul mate, an eternal partner, would only damper my quelling hope for a future with both of us. My story would never be as perfect. I wonder what they thought I was doing now. None, but Alice, probably knew what a mess I was in. Emmett most likely thought I was crazy, or psychotic, but that was nothing new. Jasper would agree with him, and would most likely be confused by my despair over the loss of a human's presence. But what a special human. Esme, would be worried no doubt her sadness would permeate the house, first to Carlisle until finally everyone would depressed. That explained nearly half the phone calls. They were probably death threats from Rosalie. I wondered, out of concerned curiosity, what they were doing in Ithaca. I had left barely after we had gotten settled into the house, what jobs would they be pretending to do? Would Emmett and Jasper be in school? I realized, partly because of the need to find out more about Victoria, partly because of curiosity, but mostly because of guilt. With that in mind, I pulled out my phone, and pressed send.

The tiny icon of a phone, moving with an unnatural elf-jig-esque motion, appeared on the screen. I waited until hearing the first buzz of the radiowaves moving outward, and three seconds later the beginning note of a ringtone burst forth when suddenly I snapped the phone shut. I was scared, a coward through and through.

In reality, despite the logical conclusion my mind had reached, I was guiltily ashamed for what lay ahead. I knew that the pain I had inadvertently caused by leaving Forks, and my family, would permeate their actions. Try as they might to move on, our family was accustomed to nearly 50 years of living together. A change that occurred over the span of less than a year was enough to make me leave all I knew behind, but to them my absence would be strange. Alice and Jasper had gone away from the family before, as had Rosalie and Emmett—though that was more for our sake than theirs. But their trips were never permanent, as I knew mine would have to be. In addition, _I_ had always be the constant member of the Cullen clan. I had remained with Carlisle, with the exception of my rebellious era, since my "creation." While some, or more simply Rosalie, would find my journey away from the family nothing more than foolish lovesickness, Esme would be devastated. I shied away from accepting the pain I had caused my family. I could speculate, but if I called them I would have concrete proof of it.

"Brrinng, brrrring," the incessantly joyful ringtone cut through my cowardice. It was sheer foolishness that made me forget to take in account Alice. I clenched my fist that was not holding the phone, and prepared myself for the onslaught. Careful to make sure that I didn't break the screen, or the phone, entirely I gingerly opened it again. The number was not Alice's, though I knew it would not be long before she called, the number was one I didn't recognize: 336-928-0521. I scanned lists of area codes, quickly realizing the caller had to be from central North Carolina.

"Hello," I said surprised I could even talk. It had been a while since I had been in contact with anyone, human or otherwise.

"Hi, this is Sondra from In-Shape Fitness, I was just wonderin if you'd take some o' your precious time to answer some questions." Great, my first call in three months was from a telemarketer.

As engrossing as answering a mundane questionnaire sounded, I had better things to do. Such as track down a psychotic vampire. So I began to cut her off by saying, "Actually Sondra, while that does seem like an appealing offer I have to—"

She interrupted me with a quick, "Oh dearie, it'll only take about 2 minutes of your time tops!" Without pausing for me to decline she continued, "Okay, come on, here's the first question: how would you describe your diet? Do you consume fast food or prefer a meal at home?" I stifled a hint of laughter and quickly realized that her insistent questioning would require stricter measures.

"I really do need to go." I said briskly, as I hung up I could hear her persistence as she continued, "wait, sir, so what type of meat do you eat the most?...."

I sighed as the phone rang nearly a seconds later. This time the number was one I recognized. Alice. I used the fifteen seconds between rings to brace my self. While I did, I realized Alice and Jasper must have moved back with the family. When I had left they had been taking a break in Alaska, the small spread out population was supposed to help Jasper refocus. I wondered absently what had been the result of the experiment, or rather vacation. Then I remembered the reason for the vacation, I stiffened but tried to swallow my ridiculous fear.

"Hello," I said, as soon as I opened the phone, hoping to catch her off guard. The hollow emptiness of my voice surprised me.

"Edward," she replied, just as rapidly, her tone carrying serious implications.

"So," I began after a tense two seconds, I regretted the fact that I could not read her mind. I decided to try to break the ice, by this point a glacier, by changing the topic. Or at the least divert the attention from my current hiatus. "I take it you've moved back in with the rest of the family." While she and Jasper may have, I, on the other hand had not. Words had come out wrong. Once again, the attention would now be on me.

"Yes, you supposed correctly. We're back." As much as I usually despised Alice's continually chatter, nearly worse than that was when she didn't talk. It meant she was mad, a side of her no one dared to encounter, not even Jasper. I needed to pacify her, to tell her something that would help soothe this inexplicable fury that currently was consuming her.

"So," I began again, sounding like a redundant idiot, "How's the weather in Ithaca, you are still living there right?" My empty tone, had turned even bleaker. The words sounded wrong, again, and reminded me of my irresponsibility. I didn't even know where my family was living.

She began to talk again, finally letting go of a torrent of questions. My dismal tone must have softened her. "Where have you been? Where are you now? I tried calling you atleast sixty-eight times, but your phone was off. For like a month. And speaking of that, you should really update your subscription plan, Edward, I saw this great sale at Verizon the other day. It was, only $69.99 per months! Think about that, that's only $839.99 a year, and $359.99 less a year. That means that in one hundred and fifty years we will only have paid $125,998.50 instead of $179,982.00, which is a difference of $53,983.50! I know, I know it's not that we need to save the money, I mean if my mind is correct—which it will be—in one hundred and fifty years our stocks will have quintupled, but still, it's a great deal!" Only on the last note did her voice break. Her fake enthusiasm was touching, she too had tried to distract me, but neither of us could ignore the omnipresent elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry Alice, I truly am," I replied, referring to her unspoken questions and concerns. I tried to infuse some emotion into my apathetic voice. "I didn't want it to be like this, but it's what will be the best. For all of us."

"What if it's not the best, Edward?" she began to plead. "I know, you will say that Bella is "better off." That's fine, I love Bella, and I know enough about you to know that if I try to reason with you it will only increase your resolve. Though I am telling you this, so that implies that I will know that you will know that I will know that if I talk to you about this then you will stay away longer. Interesting, but regardless, I'm not here to talk to you about that."

"What are you here to talk to me about," the phrase may have come out slightly harsher than I had intended. I had forgotten how complicated talking with a psychic could be, worse yet, the fact that _she_ knew what I how I would react, while I had no insight into her mind, was frustrating. Suddenly, I realized I had forgotten something once again, a fact I should have remembered. "How many are in the house Alice." Basically, how many members of my family would be privy to what we were going to discuss.

"Um, well," she seemed nervous. "The thing is," she continued, "when I first saw…you were going to call, we were all so excited…but…then you hung up, so then… Well."

"Spit it out, Alice" I said fearing the worst. I mean what could it be? Everyone in the family in the house?

"You're on speaker phone." She stated, a twinge of guilt in her voice.

I hung up.

The action was useless, because she knew, and I knew, that she would call back. She, however, could anticipate how long my anger would last while I could not. My phone rang again a minute later. It had been a very long minute, in which I considered never communicating with my family, tearing Alice apart, destroying all means of communication in the world, and finally regained my control. "Hello everyone" I said this time.

"You needn't worry," Alice replied, "I sent them all away, or rather they all left. Esme was so ashamed, as was Carlisle, you know they would never intrude on your privacy. They were just trying to find out how you were. If you had let me finish, I was going to tell you how we weren't sure if you were going to call back, whether it would be in the next hour or in the next year. So when I attempted to call you, and you actually answered, they all perked up and I had to put it on speaker phone."

Instead of the anger I had been expecting I was felt with guilt. I should have known my family better, of course they wouldn't have to spy on my conversation. The fact that they left was touching, though ultimately fruitless, I knew they would probably be able to hear everything Alice said and no doubt my voice from the phone. In addition, there I didn't need to hide anything, we were family and they would find out. It was merely a question of concealing my pain. I couldn't lie to Alice as well as I could mask what I was going through while talking to Esme, Emmett, or even Carlisle. "It doesn't really matter does it, Alice? They'll all be able to hear what I'm saying and they deserve to listen in. It's my fault they have resorted to such measures, I've been utterly irresponsible. I should call more."

She laughed weakly, "As interesting as your acceptance of the fact is, it isn't necessary, I've run about seventy miles since then, so they probably wont be able to hear us." She paused, "back to what I was about to say. I know this will sound horrible, and will make you feel terribly guilty, but, please, please come back home." I tried to cut her off, but Alice was more persistent than the inane telemarketer, and she knew I wouldn't hang up on her. "I know, I probably sound extremely selfish," she continued, "but you have no need to castigate yourself like this. You're hurting no one more than yourself, so come back. It will not matter if you're miserable, in fact you might even be more depressed, which all things considered, seems to be what you would prefer. You have no clue how it has been around here, please Edward."

I paused before answering, and she surprisingly waited for me. "The thing is, Alice, I'm not willing to come home. It's not my depression I fear, it's the pain I know I shall cause the family by being constantly morose. It's better this way, you don't have to go through, or even know, what I'm dealing with. I know it's probably hurting Esme, a fact I wish I could reconcile, but in reality my distance is helping you. Please accept that."

She sighed, surrendering, "I knew that from the beginning, but it was worth a shot. You'll come back," she said confidently, and then less confidently she added, "I'm just unsure when it shall be. Anyway, how are things," she changed the subject abruptly; now that her duty was over she was still curious. "I'm alone so you can tell me. I wont tell them, but I can if you'd like to spare the horror of repeating it five more times. And, yes, Rosalie is concerned about you."

I grimaced inwardly, Rosalie concerned? That signified things were extremely dismal. "I've been horrible, to put it lightly," I decided to forgo telling her about my hunt of Victoria, it would only make her more concerned, "I've tried ignoring the fact, but it's unignorable, I think about her. So much, you have no idea, in reality I'm only away because I know this will protect her," she had begun to interuppt but I continued, "I understand what you think, and out of respect for me I hope you shall not go back and interfere with her life. Nothing much eventful has happened, I haven't killed anyone, yet." I heard her suck in a gasp, "Don't worry," I added, "It's not in any of my future plans."

"And what exactly are in your future plans, Edward? Are you planning on coming back for the Holidays? Will you ever admit you are making a giant egregious action?"

"Alice, I'm doing what's best with _my_ love life, what will protect the love of _my_ existence, what is painful for _me_. I find it ludicrous that everyone in the family seems to think that they should be able what occurs in my life." Suddenly, I wasn't sure if it was out of guilt or the overwhelming sadness I blurted out, "I promise, I shall call every month, we can determine a time. And, in addition, in six or seven months, I'll return. I shall come back home, and then I will go back to Forks, discreetly," I warned, "and check on Bella," I was already thrilled at the prospect. _Calm, focus, she is better without you_, I reminded myself. "If she is happy, I'll leave, and will never come back. If she isn't…well, we will decide from there."

Alice sighed again, but was more contented with this answer. "I suppose you should probably talk to Esme," she said. "She is probably the most excited to talk to you. I do hope you've had enough sense to at least charge your phone, Edward, because you're in for a long night of conversing."

I knew I shouldn't be afraid, I had promised, rationalized, and had concluded that the conversation with Alice would be the hardest. I realized that a conversation with Alice was not what I should have feared. She was complacent with the current stand of events only because she had the assurance that I would return. The others did not. Esme as a result would be frantic with worry, unjustified worry. This conversation would be the most difficult. It wasn't so much that she would be angry, no, her sadness and patience would only be much worse. It made no sense that my irresponsible actions should cause her pain. It was illogical, yet it was not enough to make me return. As I had explained to Alice my presence would only make things worse. In my absence Esme could miss me, worry about me, but she would never truly know what I was going through. She could never understand my frame of mind. She thought they was an afterlife, she didn't realize that every moment I remained with _her_ was another moment I was condemning her to the life of a monster. Yet, if I returned, it would only show her the extent of my pain. And, in that circuitous manner that your own pain affects your loved ones I would be hurting her twice as much. No, this was the right decision, no matter what Esme or the rest of my family would care to think. But how could I explain that to her?

I continued to think as Alice made the journey back home, trying to find some way in which I could ease her worries. I could think of none. She gave me a warning once she reached 5 miles from the house. "Edward," she said, her tone slightly threatening, "please say you didn't hang up, because if you did you know I'll just call you back and I know that you know that I know that you'll pick up. So, are you there?"

"Yes, Alice, I have—though you think it impossible—managed to stay online for the four minutes fifty-two seconds it took you run back. Which, is actually much slower than your usual pace, have you been gaining weight in the past couple of months?" I teased her, hoping to strike a chord with her benevolent side. Perhaps if she felt kind she would preface my conversations with a good word. Of course, had a really wanted Alice to be sympathetic I should have just promised a pair Christian Louboutin slingback pumps.

"For your knowledge, Edward, I actually have been widening my diet. Jasper and I have found this great location for cougar hunting. Anyways, since I feel kind," Yes! I thought silently, "I shall proceed to give the phone to the first person I see, as to not inflict any extra pain on you. Intentionally. But, since I do know who it shall be…hmmm...I wonder whether I should change the entrance which I'm going to enter from that way…Nope. I promised no interfering. Plus I don't really feel that kind, if you did however want a guarantee as to who you were going to talk to first, I am a size 5 and I was coveting…Never mind. I here. Okay, I'm entering, and I'm closing my eyes, and I'm walking towards the TV, and yup. It's…"

"Bro, Edward," It was Emmett. Alice must have told him something in the background, because he began to say, "sorry about earlier, with the speakerphone. In fact I'm leaving now, I think I need to run, just to have some more privacy."

"Why does everyone have to leave, it's not like we're not all going to hear it?! There isn't even better reception in the woods!" I could hear Rosalie screaming as Emmett left the house.

"So," he said after what seemed like a year but was in reality closer to a minute, "spill. What are you doing, where are you, when are you planning on coming back?" I should have known Emmett would be direct. And curious.

"I'm around Patuanak, Alberta, though I've run and driven off the road for a while so I'm not quite sure. I haven't gone through a "proper" city for a while, so honestly I'm not sure." My voice despite conversing with Alice was still oddly devoid of emotion. I was about to continue to explain why I couldn't come home when Emmett suddenly interrupted me.

"Hey, so, I know this is completely off topic but I'm curious and, I'll be honest, I'm trying to distract you, but what car are you driving now?" Of course, Emmett (and probably Rosalie for that matter) would be interested in my mode of transportation. I considered telling him horse, just to see his reaction, but finally glanced back at the car and told the truth.

"It's an Audi coupe, but I've been using it like an SUV so it's in pretty bad shape." I wasn't even responsible enough to take care of a car. I would probably have to get another on at the next large town I visited; this one was showing clear signs of neglect.

Emmett whistled and continued, "Still driving in style. Though you'd better not tell Rose about abusing that car, you wouldn't want her to have another reason to kill you."

"And why exactly does she want to kill me?" I asked this time.

"You seriously don't know?" he replied, he paused but then continued. "I guess Alice didn't share as much as I thought she would have. Listen, I know this is gonna hurt," Why was everyone telling me that? "but the house is a mess. Not just mentally, but physically as well, it's just we're really used to you being here Edward. Without you Esme, and Carlisle," I winced, "just aren't the same. You know they'll never admit it but they like you best. And that's cool with me and all, but now the sadness has spread from them to Alice to Jasper, and it's all downhill from there."

"I'm sorry Em, I truly am." I replied, "I promised to call, so that may help." I considered telling him what I was doing, tracking and hunting Victoria. I knew he would be much more encouraging once he found out, but Emmett was too honest. He would easily tell the rest of the family and I didn't feel like worrying them even more. "I wish I could make it better, but this way is the best. Besides I'm feel like I'm growing to like Canada. It has a lot of trees. And you can legally go 95 on the highway," the fact that the government meant 95 kilometers per hour rather than miles was one I chose to ignore. "But," I said, my perverse curiosity getting the better of me, "what, besides dreading my absence which is what Alice and you have seemed to say, have you been doing?"

"A mixture of things really, Esme tried to restore the house we're in now so we were busy building and tearing stuff down," I could hear the smile in his voice, "for the first couple of weeks. But then now she says that she's gotten tired of it, but I think that she's afraid that if she does finish the whole project, she wont know what to occupy her attention, from you not being there. Alice suddenly has thrown herself into some research project, though she won't tell us what it's about yet. Jasper has started to think about testing himself more. He doesn't want what happened—Well, yeah, you remember it. He wants to make sure it won't happen again. So he's thinking about putting himself in the midst of more humans. We'll see how that works. And Carlisle is working at the hospital, but he's been going less frequently just because he wants to comfort/be with Esme and because he misses you. And that leaves Rose and I, we aren't really doing anything right now. Rose tried to fix this old car she found, but yeah the depression is getting to her. I think she misses you also, despite what you think. I'm thinking about taking her on a vacation, letting us renew our vows or honeymoon or something, just to get her mind off whatever's going on."

He finally paused allowing for me to let the information he had provided sink in. So things were much worse that Alice had described. I had thought she would be more honest, but then I realized that she must have a slightly better image of what I was going through than Emmett. I hadn't realized how much she was trying to shelter me. "Emmett," I said finally knowing it was cruel to force her to wait any longer, "I think I should probably talk to Esme now."

Emmett, too, had to run back to the house and in the time it took him (only slightly faster than Alice) I nearly lost my nerve twice. I could see, though the statement seemed impossible, what Rosalie meant—the running back and forth was tiresome. However, I, in all honesty, preferred it. It allowed some modicum of privacy, and let me feel like I was truly talking to the member of my family on the phone, rather than my entire family at the same time. As he ran, Emmett continued to talk, ever the implacable curious one. "So, when are you planning on coming back?" He asked trying to casually slip the imminently loaded question in after reports of loosing football teams.

"I'm not quite sure," I replied I was almost certain, as considerate as my brother always was, the information would most certainly be used in some sort of bet.

"Yeah, man, I know, but the thing is Jasper and I have this…" I was right. He must have sensed my disapproval because he began to rethink what he was about to say. "No, I mean, so okay…well fine, it was about when you were going to be…but that isn't the point! It was just to keep away the ever-pervading doom you've cast upon the house. Damn, that came out wrong. Just ignore me."

"I already do," I muttered. He was right though, even though Emmett cast me as some sort of evil wizard, he was true. I had left the family in shambles. When would what I do ever be correct?

"So, after hearing my lame attempt not to sound like a total douche," he was still persistent, "would you consider handing over some hints? Are you going to stop in around Christmas? Don't tell me, you're coming back for Thanksgiving. Wait, Thanksgiving's already over. Nevermind"

I was going to restrain myself but realized it would probably just be easier if I told him what I was thinking, "No shit Sherlock, I'm not planning on returning for Thanksgiving." Then I realized guiltily that I was responsible for his uncertainty. "Listen, Em, I'm sorry. I wish there was a way I could come back. But I can't, it will only be worse to see what I'm going through. I know you believe I'm crazy—"

"Dude, I don't just think you're crazy, I _know _you're crazy." He was so insightful sometimes. Not. "You think that you're the only one who cares about her. And, yes, it's true that you probably love her more than any of us, but we care and love about her too. It might not be as much as you, but please know that we _do_ care. Alice, Jasper, Me, even Rose, we'll do anything. I'll restrain Jasper 24/7, Alice will scan the future. We'll make sure what…what, happened won't again."

"Emmett, it's not only her safety I fear for. Every moment I spend with her is another one I'm stealing from her youth. I'm not supposed to exist. I am, have always been, and will always be a monster. Whether you like it or not I will not subject her to this." As harsh as the words sounded I needed to say them, they were the truth and he deserved to hear them.

"Edward," he replied, matching my tone, "have you ever considered that, maybe, just possibly, she loves you? I mean, know this is your first relationship or whatever, but did you ever stop to think that she might be just as hurt as you are?"

"Humans forget, they move on." I hated to say it, and it hurt me twice as much on the inside but it, too, was true. That was one of the annoying things about Emmett; he had the uncanny knack of sounding like a more profane version of my conscience. He always seemed to ask what I was too afraid to ask myself. "She'll be fine in a few weeks." I however wouldn't. That didn't matter. "Trust me, she can never feel the extent of my pain. She can't have emotions as strong as these." My voice broke, against my will, on the last word. Emmett understood and was quiet for a while. Soon I could hear him slowing down, and the faint gurgle of a brook, he was getting closer to the house.

"Okay, I'm going to go in and find Esme, and then she'll probably run north, but I'm not sure, then she'll come back so you can talk to Carlisle, Jasper, and Rose. Listen, you still didn't give me a concrete answer but, I miss you and, I know you'll come back. At least I hope you will. So if I don't see you before you call next, Good-bye." I could tell that he was trying not to let his grief show as he said his parting words. I tried awkwardly, and ultimately unsuccessfully, to assure him.

"Well, don't worry, I'll call," I was afraid to promise anything, "and I know your cell phone number, and last time I checked you know mine, so I shall call you if I need help." I knew I couldn't put it off any longer so finally I said, "good-bye Emmett."

He walked inside and I knew he wouldn't have to look long in order to find Esme. She was waiting for him. I heard him hand her the phone. There was silence. "Edward?"

The word was a question, one that tore my heart, she didn't know whether I was still on the phone. She didn't know where I was. She didn't know when I was coming back, yet she still talked. I didn't deserve her generosity. "Yes, Esme?" I replied, answering her question with a question.

"Oh god! It's you, your voice, I can't believe it, and you are truly on the phone!" Her excitement was endearing yet her surprise was unexpected, having been handed the phone with the knowledge I was on it I couldn't understand was she was so shocked to hear me. Perhaps I was getting slow after having relied on my "talent" for so long. She continued, "I'll leave the house, I think I'll probably run north, just so we have some privacy."

"Again with the running, what are we part of a freaking relay?!" I heard Rosalie shouting again the background. I couldn't wait to talk to her, not.

I wasn't quite sure what to say, but I began, again awkwardly. "So, how have you been?" I said trying to fill my dull voice with some sort of emotion so she wouldn't feel even worse. "Emmett said you were redecorating the house," I began.

"Oh, well, we've acquired a lovely Victorian, you saw it…briefly…I'm trying to restore it to the Queen Anne style it used to be but…" Esme continued to talk but I was, this time, surprised, I had never expected her to take my call in stride so well. I had expected three distinct options, she would either hang up out of anger. This was the first and what I had thought most probable. She had every reason to hate me. The second I had come up with was that she might choke back impossible sobs, and talk very little forcing me to do all the conversation. Having known Esme as a rather reserved person, though she was did get wild with the karaoke mike—not, I had thought this likely. This option would have allowed her to listen to me and me to talk and answer her questions. The third option was that she would talk in a manner I usually reserved for Alice. It was an option I had never expected and had merely included in my calculations out of confusion. Yet it appeared that it was the third option that Esme had chosen. Then it hit me. It was so obvious I should have realized it before. Esme, too, was trying to protect me, she knew that I was in pain, and perhaps she thought that if I saw how accepting she and the family were I would come back.

"Esme," I interrupted gently, "We need to talk." My dialogue appeared to be veering towards that of a cheesy soap opera. "I understand that you and Alice, and rest of the family for that matter, are trying to protect me but you can tell me whatever you wish to say to me. You needn't keep up this pretense. I know I've been a horrible son, I—"

"Edward, you've been the opposite of horrible. It's my own selfishness that forces me to want you back here. I don't want to pressure you, I'm simply happy you called. I would be lying, however, to say I haven't missed you. I've missed you terribly." I felt horrible to have caused someone so understanding so much grief. "I know you well enough to assume that you're probably blaming this on yourself. So stop please."

"I'm sorry, I truly am Esme. This is the only way." Alice call me stubborn but I was sure of my course. I needed to explain that to Esme though.

"I understand and accept your apology. However, it would truly give me some peace of mind if you could answer my questions truthfully." I would do my best to answer all that I could truthfully, hopefully she wouldn't ask me about tracking. Or Victoria.

"You deserve that and much more Esme, but yes, for now I'll answer any question you have as best as I can," I replied.

"Firstly, then," she sounded like she was working off a list. I suppose I shouldn't have supposed Alice jested when she said I was in for a long _night_ of conversing, the sun was setting now.


	17. Son Continued

**Dearest Readers,**

**Once again I update, in frequently though in comparison the six day wait is not nearly as long as the previous 21 days. I understand I've altered the line-up of conversations, with a surprise person appearing right before Carlisle. However I re-read what I had written and swiftly realized that while I loved the Edward/Carlisle and Edward/Esme conversations it was necessary to add some spice back into the story. Carlisle and Esme are wonderful characters however the Edward we see while he is talking to Carlisle is most definitely not the Edward who talks to, for example, Rosalie. Our sardonic Edward was needed, as a result we have tossed back in another character and a bit of a plot twist. I understand the majority of you may be tired at this point of the continuing conversations. Fear not, I hope to continue the story as soon as he finishes up two more discussions. Both of which will be vital to his journey in pursuit of Victoria. Also we have to realize that while time may at this point seem irrelevant to Edward, psychologically the time he was away from Bella would probably feel like the longest part of his life. This is simply due to the struggle had to go through in order to merely continue to exist while away from her.**

**I've left this section up for those of you who haven't recieved a chance to read it as of yet: If you have been following this story for a while you probably have heard about my desire to come up with a better name for the story. Many of you have provided terrific options, and I have decided to open up the options to you. While I'll admit I shall have the final say in the matter, it seemed fit to allow you—the actual people who have provided me with enthusiasm to continue writing—to have a say in the matter. As a result I shall change the poll on my profile to a poll of the options. Currently I am unsure of how to allow readers who do not have a fan fiction account to vote. However if you do feel strongly about one of the titles, or have an alternate option yourself, please feel free to express it via the reviews. As for my two submissions to the poll they need an explanation in order to facilitate a better understanding.**

**The first is apogee, which actually when pronounced correctly is quite enjoyable to say. But, besides merely sounding interesting an apogee is also, according to a dictionary of lunar terms, "The point in the Moon's orbit where it is furthest from Earth." This appeared fit as Edward is literally the farthest away from Bella here, and Bella and Edward consider each other to be the centers of their orbits (respectively of course). The second potential title is the Terminator. However before you conjure up images of Arnold Schwarzenegger and monosyllabic phrases (i.e. I'll be back) please allow me to explain. According dictionary of lunar terms, it is "The line separating the illuminated and dark areas of a planetary body;" I perceived this as an acceptable title because it showed the "knife edge" Edward had to tread, while away from Bella. Previously he was completely in the light, completely open and free with Bella but during New Moon he retreats to the line that previously separated him. Anyways, I'd love to hear what you lot thought of them, the other names, and this chapter anonymous reviews are, as always, acceptable.**

**Thank you,**

**Itaque**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Stephenie Meyer nor am I attempting to make any profit or comerical/non-comercial gain from the reproduction and continuation of her copyrighted material**.

Son (Continued)

By Itaque

"Where are you?"

"Why did you leave?"

"When will you come back?"

"Where are you going?"

"What are you planning on doing?"

"Will you go north to Alaska?" the questions were endless, but finally Esme appeared to be concluding her interrogation. She asked in a rather hushed voice, "What color are your eyes?"

"Golden, yellow, not red. Certainly not red." I answered swiftly. As difficult as the previous questions had been for me to answer, or answer as truthfully as I could, this was one I could dismiss easily. I was not a murderer. Yet. In reality this was the one thing that made the most sense out of all the questions, how could I kill the very thing I strove to protect? How could I ever taste human blood again, after knowing that the same life-providing liquid coursed through her veins? And worst of all how could I kill? How could I take a life, extinguishing it like a flickering candle, when knowing that irrevocable action was one that might occur to her as well. I wouldn't, I _couldn't,_ change the color of my eyes.

Esme's response showed open relief, "Good—I mean, that's wonderful. We never doubted you Edward. It was just a…concern I'd had, but I should have known better. You would never do that." Unfortunately her confidence was misplaced. I had done that. I had taken the lives of so many, repeatedly. And worst of all, I had enjoyed it.

"Thank you Esme, I'm glad to know you still trust me," I replied humbly.

"Of course we trust you Edward, you're our son. You belong with us, and what you're going through now…it's ok. You'll be fine. I promise. Just do what you feel is best, and when you feel the time is right, come back. I know, and while you may believe I find it hard to even fathom one ounce of what you are currently experiencing please understand that I know the other half of this tale. I'll admit it before you contradict me, Carlisle and my initial interaction was nowhere as open as yours was. I scarcely knew who he was, yet I _knew_. I knew it was who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and while I know you consider yourself a menace, you are not a monster. I can assure you that having experienced the otherside of what you've gone through, the one who was left behind, Bella is probably in as much grief as you." This fact was probably impossible. In addition Bella would continue her life, she was human, Esme's analogy was flawed. Esme _had_ moved on after Carlisle and I left, she had gotten married to a human, had a human wedding—one that wasn't merely an event that happened ever five decades—and had a child. She had given birth, something that would be impossible were Bella to be with me. To deprive her of all these human things, while making my cruel existence a stunting point in her life would not be fair. Esme might believe that she was correct, or knew what Bella was going through but she didn't realize that it was much better this way. However she continued, "When you have gotten over whatever you feel please know we'll accept you regardless of the color of your eyes, or what you feel you have done. And we can move back, we haven't sold the house yet, I wouldn't let Carlisle, and I'm sure that—"

"Please, don't start making plans about going back," I pleaded weakly. It was sheer willpower that prevented me from returning; knowing that the possibilities, as outlined by Esme, were available—and so easy—only made it even worse.

"We just want you at home," she concluded. I could tell how difficult the words were for her to say. She was allowing me to pursue my own path instead of begging me to return home, that sacrifice in it self showed how much she cared. Perhaps Alice had told her this would be the best venue, or perhaps she knew me better than I knew myself and realized that this would be the best way to deal with my absence. Yet, there was one crucial mistake in her soliloquy, she had assumed that this pain would heal. It could not, and never would. I would never simply "get over" Bella, it was an impossible feat.

"Thank you," I replied simply, "well," I continued, "I certainly am not attempting to get rid of you Esme, so please do not take this question as a feeble attempt to ditch you. However, would you happen to know where Carlisle is? I understand I should have talked to him first, and I owe him an explanation. I owe everyone an explanation. Talking to you has been…refreshing, but after five hours I believe it would be more…prudent to let one of the others receive a chance. Is this acceptable to you? I am completely willing to talk more I merely thought it would only be fair to—"

"Edward," she had cut me off, "I am truly proud to be your mother. Only you would consider the feelings of others even in the position that you are in currently. Please don't worry, I am completely fine with you talking to your father. I'll find him…but…Edward, incase we don't get a chance to talk again….please know, I love you, we all do, and we will wait for you to come back. Please know that."

She began to run back to the house, and as she ran we discussed a schedule for me to call her: once at least every month, on the third day of the second week, and I would dedicate at least a day to talking to her. The last point was quite concession on my behalf, but they all deserved it and much more.

In reality, I was anxious to talk to Carlisle. I had lived with him the longest and knew his temperament the best. He would understand, he had gone through the so called other-side of Esme's heartbreak. In addition he could, not doubt, give me more information regarding how to decimate Victoria. I was certain that, except the Volturi, Carlisle was the most informed about Vampire abilities, Jasper however…He would be useful to find out more about how to track and murder—if one really called the death of a mass murderer murder—Victoria. I wondered whether it would be acceptable to let Jasper know about what I was doing. Would he tell Alice? I supposed the question wasn't "would he tell Alice?" but "with her wily ways could Alice force him to confess?" Unfortunately I did not have the answer to either. A strange part of me longed to be back with my family. The lonely purgatory I had forced myself in to was exactly how it sounded, lonely. One would think that after living decades with no relationship but those with six other people one would be acclimated. That the very fact that you were alone, in a country you rarely traipsed, and without kin or kind for five hundred miles would become second nature. In a sense I supposed it had, but the loneliness that accompanied the lifestyle we pursued set in now. I had always imagined that as time went on this would change, that one would become content in oneself, placid with the stillness that signified you were alone. Tranquil with the separation you felt, away from civilization, not even human, an outsider. It was impossible to reconcile. As strong as I wished I was, I could not admit that I had never regretted leaving home. Even amidst the dark years I spent hunting, I shuddered, humans I had contemplated—several times—returning.

I focused on Esme's even breathing, one breath ever few minutes, to pull me back from my abstraction. She was almost back to the house, was Carlisle at home? Alice had mentioned that he had been listening previously, but had he left for work during when I was talking to Esme? I hoped he was there, his calm advice was what I needed most at this point. I knew that Esme could probably hear the family by now, each quietly moving about the house. I heard her stop. Carlisle must not have been there, or there was a problem. She began to say, "Here's the deal Edw—"

"Esme," I questioned a hint of anxiety leaking in to my voice. "Is everything all right?"

There was silence.

The phone line went dead.

I groped the phone frantically dialed Alice's number, not the home phone, as I wasn't sure whether the family was being watched or on the run at this point. It call went directly to the answering machine. Dammit. I tried again calling one of Jasper's many phone numbers, but more specifically one of the older numbers which he still kept in service, but only for emergencies. After two rings the call was received, and I heard the sound of wind rushing by, he was running. The call was disconnected. Finally I called Rosalie, a last resort but I knew that Emmett never picked up his phone—regardless of the situation. The phone rang, once, three times, six times, and upon the eighth ring I was certain I was going to hang up when someone picked up. _Dear deities, Jesus, Zeus, Allah, Buddha, Shiva, _I thought _please assure me that this is not Rosalie. _

"Guess who finally decided to call me." Shit. It was Rosalie. "I don't know whether I should be honored but such a favor or just pissed that you ruined my day."

"Rosalie," I started, "as fun as an argument with you sounds, would you please like to share what exactly is going on?"

"I'm sure you know just as well as I do, which means, that for a fact I'm quite confused at this point," she replied.

"Please, listen to me, I was talking to Esme—she was quite close to the house—when suddenly the line when dead. Then I tried calling Alice and she didn't pick up, Jasper did—for about a second total—and it sounded like they were running. What's going on?!" It was impossible to have a conversation with Rosalie without getting upset. I was annoyed that I had reacted in such a manner to her reply. It made me seem even less mature than her.

"Edward. Relax." She let out a sigh, "Esme thought Carlisle disappeared because he wasn't at the hospital when Em had gone to drop off a letter for him from the Volturi. Em wasn't sure what was in the letter—it ended up being the typical bi-decade correspondence—but then reported to Esme that Carlisle was gone when Esme came back home. He also showed her the letter from the Volturi. Then Esme went slightly crazy and ran towards the hospital, with Jasper and Alice chasing her. Of course they all forgot about sun, or the crazy idea that we _are _vampires and nearly exposed our identity to a group of school children. Em just discovered that Carlisle had driven down to Pathuatc in order to purchase some sort of present for Esme. He's on his way back now. Esme's recuperating with Alice and Jasper, they're all mostly in shock. And I, the only one who didn't go ape shit over the whole issue, am fine. Thank you for asking. It's truly not huge issue. Just another example of how one mistake gets blown out of proportion in this house."

"Oh, okay," I said slightly miffed, it was strange seeing the events of my family as an outsider. Not that such events routinely happened. I wondered whether Esme was more protective of the family after I had left. Perhaps she didn't want to lose anyone else, I mused.

"Of course you wouldn't just now realize how protective Esme's gotten if you'd been living here for let's say, the past three months."

"Ouch, that hurt," I said slightly sarcastically and also truthfully. "It's not as though I haven't already heard—let's just say at least 3 times—that I should move back and forget the love of my life."

"Stop being so melodramatic Edward," I should have known Rosalie's advice would be blunt. "This is your fault. You brought this upon yourself, had you done what was best for you and that human then this issue would not exist. She would be immortal, you would be immortal, you'd both be blissfully happy and everything would be fine." Once again Rosalie strove to find the most superficial and easy "solution."

"It's not that simple Rose," I tried explaining, willing myself to not lose my temper. I can't kill her, while some of us might try to do the selfish thing I care about her. I know that she what she will have to give up in order to become one of us. I could never rob her of her life." I grinned slightly internally, Rosalie wasn't the only one who could deliver subtle quips.


	18. An Update

Dear Readers,

I am sure that my promises will seem empty after about three weeks without updating. I must confesss, regardless of your doubt, that I DO have another chapter. The problem lies in the fact that it is on one operating system (without internet) and my current electronic appliance (which does have internet) does not have Word. All that should change in about a day, however I felt I needed to post some sort of update due to an exciting experience I just had. To warn you, the following is Twilight/New Moon related but in no way constitutes an update, it shall invariably be only about 200 words. So feel free to stop reading, but before you leave I wanted to thank you. I probably have thanked my readers several times, but only after posting the last chapter did I realize how valuable you truly are. The close reading of **TwightAnn **and **CullenGirl13**, allowed me to correct an erroneous sentence which I mistakenly had written. I encourage you to critique and edit my work because it only helps all of us read a better story. I also would like to thank the countless anynonymous reviewer who I wish I could reply to, but will list here so that they know that I do appreciate they contribution: **Karen, Edward_Fanatic, Fanpire, Charleyy, Beth09, Amanda, Jamie, Mandy, Elizabeth, Megan, TAB, unnamed, jd, etwimom, Major Grai, Cindy**, and many more. If I left you off the list please know your contribution was not, by any means, unappreciated! I only could sift through so many pages of Fan Fiction on my rather slow internet.

Secondly, my exciting news was that I just had the pleasure of visiting Montepulciano, Italy. This is the location where, as some of you will already know, the Volterra scenes in New Moon were filmed. While the city itself was charming, it was not as imagined (it had no fountain and the main square was rather small). It did, however, provide me with countless images of how the final scenes shall appear. Filming for New Moon is almost over, but this story is far from it. I would like to set a deadline for when I should finish it (I find myself more productive when I have a goal or limit). Suggestions, update patterns, and more are now all in your control. But please try to be realistic, while I wish it as well, it is highly unlikely that I will be able to three times a day for the next one hundred years--after all, I am not a Cullen!

Thanks again,

Itaque


	19. Planning

Dearest Readers,

I know this update is not as long as I had anticipated but I wanted to upload something today in order to satisfy your New Moon cravings, and I must admit, mine as well. The tidbit is a continuation of the confrontation I began last time, with a influential character added. I hope you enjoy it and as always, reviews are much appreciated. Also, quick query, do you prefer (and I am certain I've asked this before) shorter updates more frequently or longer updates farther apart?

Sincerely

Itaque

_Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. And as much as I wish I do not own the rights to Edward, New Moon, or Twilight (and any of its subsequent characters)._

**Planning**

"Right, turn around and portray me as some soulless bloodsucking she-devil" she said shifting to the defensive side at this point, "I did what was best for Emmett and myself, you can't disagree with how that has turned out can you? Emmett and I never regret _our _decision. What do you suggest would be the alternative, allowing him to die?"

Her sharp words cut at me, more that she herself probably realized, she showed me the happiness she and Emmett had while reminding me that I could never attain so much nor could I ever keep the girl I loved alive forever...was harsh, and Rosalie in a nutshell. "Yes. Allow him to live a natural life, allow him to move on to marry to," I knew this would hurt her but was beyond reason at this point, "have children and a family. You know best of all what one must give up in order to pursue this lifestyle, I'm not willing to make Bella sacrifice that just to stay with me. It's both unfair and completely ludicrous."

She seemed to be changing tactics, "so, suppose, and I'm being completely hypothetical, that if the Cullens were say, not vampires merely immortals, and in order to become a Cullen you would only have to snap your fingers while saying something--"

"Please Rose, spare me the saga and give me the Cliff Notes version" I said annoyed and impatient, and slightly confused about what was she trying to demonstrate by talking in third person. Perhaps she was trying to show me the "benefits" of our lifestyle. Or at least convince me of the merits of Alexander McQueen.

"Then would you change her?"

"What?" Her question threw me off, I hadn't anticipated that.

"Would you change Isabella Swan if there were none of the so called stipulations tied to becoming one of us?"

"I'm--"

"Exactly my point. I had this theory, a hypothesis if you will, that while you claim that you don't want to change Bella because of 'her soul' or 'you don't want her to sacrifice' in reality that's all a ruse," she continued quickly not pausing for me to interrupt her. "How can I explain this, okay, shoes." Of course Rosalie would compare the core of my existence to a pair of Manolos. "Suppose I really liked a pair of Louboutin heels, you know the type, black sleek and stiletto. But I reasoned with myself, and told everyone that I couldn't have them, I couldn't buy them--though I was perfectly capable of it--not so much because I knew the Louboutins wouldn't like my feet but more because of my own selfish worries. For example what if I was afraid that after buying my Louboutins, I broke them? What if I made them mad and then they no longer liked me? Or what if I was scared of what would happen after or if I bought the Louboutins? Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"You're trying to say that I'm afraid of what will happen to Bella if she becomes a vampire?" I was baffled, I had never thought of it that way. Rosalie was wrong, slightly, but her questioning had brought forth a complex problem that I needed to wrestle with. Was it possible that by not changing Bella I was being selfish? I had never thought of it that way.

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm trying to say," replied Rosalie.

"I must admit your 'hypothesis' is quite introspective, for me at least. However if you had allowed me to continue to talk you would have realized that this 'selfishness' is nothing more than selflessness. I don't want her to have to sacrifice everything. Fine. Yes. I would change her, if she wanted it, and there was no bloodsucking, soul leaving, constant thirsting for blood. I love Bella, I know that even if she was to become an immortal, to use your example, even if she became angry with me it would be fine. That plays no effect in my decision."

"Well, well, well, you actually admitted something I, let me repeat that, something I, Rosalie Lillian Hale, came up with had some merit. While your admission does seem reasonable, I think you should reconsider. For the obvious reasons of course, it would allow you to be happy, with the love of your life, yada yada. But also because then you wouldn't have a reason to stay away. I know you've heard this at least three times, and I know you are probably bored of hearing it at this point but things...aren't so amazing here. Your absence has taken a toll on the family. And I know you well enough to think that you're probably being some sort of martyr and blaming it on yourself, but listen, if you want to make things better: come back." I heard some footsteps in the background, "Okay, wait Carlisle is here, he wants to talk to you."

"Thanks..Rose," I said, unsure of what to say.

"Well, you're welcome," she replied and then handed the phone off to Carlisle. I glanced apprehensively towards the phone as though the calm understanding voice of Carlisle would somehow make him appear in front of me. "Hello, son," he began.

"Hi," I said sounding reassured, there was no empty weariness as there had been in Esme's voice. He had known me for longer and knew me better than I probably knew myself, or perhaps he was just better at concealing it from me. "I'm sorry it's taken so long to call, I've been...lost to say the least. It's been hard to remember things like hunting and so..as selfish as this sounds..that's my reason for taking so long to call." I was rambling, and both he and I knew it.

"Edward, stop beating yourself up. I know that its difficult, I left Esme--and while I know very well that our initial interaction was brief, and not nearly as deep as yours and Bella's--the fact of being away from one's love is understandably difficult. I understand. I also know you'll return, and whether you will admit it at this point or not, you are a good person and you and Bella deserve each other."

"I'm not too certain about that Carlisle, but, thank you."

"Also, I know that at this point you are probably staying away out of your own stubborn will but, know, that if you do return we will stand beside you."

Carlisle was sometimes too understanding. "Thank you," I repeated again. Then in an attempt to change the subject I said, "so, what was this I heard about a letter to you from the Volturi?"

"Ah, you heard about that. Well, in actuality, only Alice and myself know the contents of the letters. There were two, one was the typical bi-decade correspondence from Aro. A subtly threatening message saying, 'how are you?' 'stuck to the veggie diet still?' and other such phrases. The second, however, was a message regarding our...encounter with James and his clan." I felt a knot form in my stomach. But this was interesting and vital to my search. He continued, wary of my reaction, "they wanted to make sure there wasn't any foul play. That it wasn't a struggle for territory or something along those lines. I think they were also making sure we hadn't turned into a land/power hungry tribe. It was nothing harsh though it was all in good measure."

Only Carlisle would see a message from a potentially lethal group of sadistic vampires as "nothing harsh and all for good measure." "Well," I began trying glean more information from Carlisle, "whatever happened to the remaining members of James's clan. Have you been in touch with Laurent and the Denali clan?"

"Last we heard he and Irina were quite close, but recently we've heard of nothing. And for the other one, Victoria, she seems to have vanished. I always saw her as a bit of a hanger-on to that group, they seemed linked by convenience rather than an actual bond."

"Well," I said feigning indifference, rather than the disappointment of no new knowledge, "that's good I suppose. No news is usually considered to be good news."

Thus it seemed my harebrained conquest was even more futile. Victoria posed even less to a threat to _her_ than I would ever be. My journey, my quest, would have no fruition, and it would only lead to further bloodshed. Despite my…temper, I rarely found myself murdering only to have the pleasure of killing something, perhaps Victoria didn't deserve this sort of a death. I heard Carlisle measuring the silence, patiently waiting before interjecting, "yes, one would consider the absence of information, good."

"Carlisle," I said slowly, "how bad is it?" I knew the question would never be able to recompensate for my actions but, I knew Carlisle would try to be honest.

He laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension, "Don't concern yourself, son, we'll be fine, it's _you_ we're all worried about. I know your mother and siblings have no doubt bombarded you with a litany of questions but I, myself, have one final question."

"What is it?" I asked a tad impatient. I knew Carlisle had lived through the aftermath of the Spanish Inquisition but I thought he would have more tact than to employ the same questioning strategy on me.

"Are you okay?" was his succinct, innocent, and unselfishly caring answer. It was a question I needed to ask myself, a question that I needed to consider but I had pushed in to the recesses of my mind. Alice, Esme, Emmett, even Rose, none of their questions had been like this because none asked me to judge my own sanity. They asked me 'how I was' but never whether or not I was mentally, physically, and emotionally 'okay.' And my reply was simple:

"No."

I could feel him recoil on the other end of the phone, worried now. "What do you mean Edward? Is there any way we can help?"

"No," I replied again, "Carlisle, I know you would be willing to give up a week of work at the hospital, and Alice would consider giving up a pair of Louboutin pumps, just to help me. I know I have your support. However, it isn't your support I need—right now—I'm fine on my own. I'm not okay, but I'm…existing. I feel this decision is the best, and any external help will hurt both you and me. I'm tired of trying to fight the pain, and I know what you think I should do, but this is the only decision." I heard him nodding, (or was he shaking his head?), on the other end of the phone but he knew me well enough to respect my decision, at least for now.

"Fine, Edward, this is your decision. But know, we are here, and will always be. Now, unless your phone is immortal as well I doubt you have much battery left but there is one more person who you need to talk to." Though he had forgotten I had managed to manipulate my phone in to doubling its battery life, he was right, I needed to talk to Jasper.

He began to run back to the house, beginning to chat lightly about the weather, what he was trying to do, and Alice's genealogical endeavors. I heard him enter the house and immediately hand the phone to Jasper. There was a pause as Jasper began to sprint and in the absence of noise I heard Rosalie distinctly yell, "Great, is it now the goddamn Vampire Olympics?! Who can run to the woods the fastest? As though Edward doesn't already know…"

"I'm sorry," were Jasper's first words. The remorse in his voice brought me back to that ugly confrontation in the woods behind our old house after that dreaded day…

He had been sprinted off in to the grey evening by Rosalie and Emmett and I, reluctantly, had to follow him. That was a further example of my weakness. I couldn't even stay with the one I had—no, still and would forever—love without sharing the same black thoughts as a man who had been part of the most bloodthirsty conquests of the south. There in a clearing with the tall evergreens looming over them, much like stakes around a cage, they had waited. Staring at a broken and guilty Jasper as he was bent over heaving to relieve his eternal thirst. I waited until he had gained his breath. My mind was also wrestling at that time. I wasn't quite sure whether I should be furious with Jasper or myself. Between that internal turmoil was the added fear of what Bella now thought of my family, and me, coupled with the bottomless fear for her safety and health. To put it simply: I had been confused. To a lesser extent then how I was now, because now I had a course and a decision I needed to stick with, then for the first time in over a century of my existence I had been unsure of what to do.

Slowly as I slowly heard his thoughts subduing I had stepped out from the ring of trees into the now darkening clearing. Our bodies cast strange glowing shadows on the brush below us and I saw Rosalie and Emmett step out from their flanking position from behind Jasper. They moved around him and until they stood between both of us, the four of us forming a square of sorts. In a hasty decision, I converted my confusion to rage.

"HOW THE HELL COULD YOU DO THIS?!" I had bellowed, forcing my anger and all my emotions into the irate phrase.

He had looked up his face beaten and before I could stop to hear his thoughts I had continued. "You have been playing that sorry 'I'm still new to this card' for the past fifty years. I understand that you had a long and troubling time as a newborn but, if you were truly trying nothing, none of this, would have happened. Has it taken ANY of us this long to acclimate? NO. Have any of us still been so weak? NO. Jasper, though none of us had as bloody of a beginning as you, we all tried. We all made a conscious effort and, though it was hard, in the end it has worked to some extent. You have not tried Jasper. I hear your thoughts. I KNOW what you think. You ARE NOT trying. You are trying to remember your past, reviving memories of slitting innocent humans throats, how do you expect to move forward if that's all you consider? You are weak."

He had interjected mad now, in part this had made my irrational mind happy. I didn't want to fight a defeated opponent.

"WEAK?! You are you trying to label as weak? My journey is twice as hard as any of yours since I've had to try twice as hard merely to erase a history I wish I could destroy. Do you think I like being the weakest one? That I enjoy it?! NO. Edward, I DO NOT. And you over look the most crucial point of this matter, all of us became thirsty after Bella's blood was open. It WASN'T just me, it was ALL of us."

I cut him off, edging in now, "What is it, her fault she cut her finger? Less than one drop of blood was released but that was enough to break your supposedly 'growing' control. Jasper you will never EVER be able to control your thirst. YOU are in charge of your thirst YOU can try to control it."

Jasper had backed up when I began but now started moving, and started yelling again, "How can you tell me what I should and should not be doing? Why is it that you assume that I'm not trying, that I'm weak? How do you know the extent of my thirst?! —"

"Extent of _your _thirst! HER BLOOD IS THE MOST POTENT THING I'VE EVER SMELLED. It calls to me the most. Yet, I still TRY to control myself. I am able to try to—"

"But you don't Edward can't you see? It's not fair to any of us to have to put up with this kind of a challenge every time she visits our house." His thoughts were racing and I suddenly stopped to listen to them, _It's selfish of him, too, to be putting her in this kind of danger. It's crazy. Humans and Vampires are not an integrated group of peoples for a reason. It would be like putting raw meat in front of lions and asking them to refrain from smelling or licking or e…_

I had opened up my mind to what Rose was thinking,_ she doesn't belong with us, she'll only get more hurt, not that I would mind but still…you would think he would…._

The pressure, and was too much. I had slumped to the ground, and Rose and Emmett who had been impassive a second before were suddenly hovering around me, concerned.

I had never been like that, I was never the weak one. Edward the Impassive. Edward the Unchanged. Yet there I had been, confronted with everything I had tried to put behind me. Had what I been doing fair?

"It's ok," I murmured standing up and ignoring their unwelcome sympathy. Rosalie had turned away quickly refocusing on Jasper; situations like this only made her uncomfortable. Our relationship was odd but constant, an unchanging dance of ignorance, hatred, and annoyance. We both tried to limit our interactions and never, ever, showed our vulnerability in front of the other. Strangely I had remembered the last time Rosalie had been vulnerable—when she allowed me to hear why she was truly jealous of Bella. Though much less than a year ago the day seemed eons in the past. Rosalie had nothing to be jealous of, if anything she should have felt lucky, my love was nothing but a death curse to all those I cared for.

As Emmett had continued to stare at my still standing form, shoulders rounded inward, and my head averted towards the ground, Jasper had muttered a curt, "I'm sorry." He then had turned and sprinted into the woods. I turned to Rosalie, straightening up, and said, "Don't go after him, he will be back in a few seconds."

Unlike them I could hear Alice's approaching thoughts as she ran towards us. _Edward, _she had begun addressing me directly, _what ever you're thinking, and I'm sure I don't want to hear it, you need to remember two things. Firstly Bella is worried about you and I, frankly—though I rarely worry—am too. I know you too well, Edward, but remember not to overreact. Secondly Jasper is your brother. Regardless of what just transpired, please remember that. You didn't get mad at him, right? _I cringed inwardly as I heard Alice's approaching footsteps, at least she hadn't arrived when we were yelling at each other. Jasper, too, heard Alice and I heard him reluctantly begin to run back toward us. This was turning into one big party.

Alice strode in to the clearing as Jasper edged in from the north end of the clearing. "What's going on?" she asked her voice clear and confident, trying to mask the turmoil I knew she was feeling.

Jasper had turned toward us, his anger returning and infusing us all with an innate sense of rage. "Your brother, here," he gestured angrily toward me, "decided to chastise me for being too weak , too fickle to try to endure the call of his human's ever present blood."

Alice had stared at me, unsure of whose side to choose. Jasper's rage had given me an irritation; I chose embrace it, rather than the black thoughts that had begun to plague me. "Jasper, seems to be mistaken, again. I was not accusing him of anything. I was merely questioning if he ACTUALLY was trying. Whether he actually gave a damn about what I cared about. I have scarified so much for this family, I have been looking out for him, but the one instance he actually needs to expend an iota of restraint? He fails. That is the issue at hand."

Jasper snarled, and turned to glare balefully at me, "You portray me like some fiendish, lazy, monster. I Try, Edward! It isn't my fault that _you_ are too cowardly to actually transform Bella."

"Cowardly? Unlike some of us I actually have a heart and, I know this might be hard for you to understand, but I care about people. It's a complex concept, I know. But because of my care I refuse to subject Bella to this. She was completely fine until you snapped at her!"

Alice had quickly interjected, her love for Jasper overwhelming any sense of morality or brotherly love, "Edward, YOU refuse to see the issue at hand! Jasper is trying, we all know that. But as much as I, or any one of us, loves Bella she continues to be an unwanted temptation for us all!"

"Alice, listen to yourself," I had yelled back, "an 'unwanted temptation' it wouldn't be a temptation if some of us actually tried to abstain!"

"Edward! Do not scream at Alice, she is the only one voicing what we all feel," Rosalie had interjected.

I had replied swiftly, angered by the abrupt turn the conversation had taken, "So this is what you all feel. I'm SORRY I've been forcing you to endure this. I though YOU all were the ones who wanted me to bring her over to our house tonight. Alice, last time I had been notified you wanted me to bring Bella over more that she, or even I, wanted to."

"Edward, don't take my words out of context. I love Bella, you of all people know I do, however it is completely unjust and unfair for you to blame Jasper. Jasper is struggling, Bella--especially with open blood--was a target none of us could have refused."

Jasper jumped in again, seizing the opportunity to defend himself, "I know what you were feeling, Edward. You can't claim to be above her blood, above the constant temptation, when _you_, too, felt the call. I find it demoralizing to have my efforts at abstinence crushed by someone who felt exactly how I did."

The harsh truth of his words pierced through to me again. I felt the force was too much, the pressure pressing down again, the question of what was right and wrong, what was just and fair, what was evil and love.


	20. The Test

**Author's Note: **

Dear Readers,

The past long month has been made me realize how much I enjoy writing. For those of you rolling your eyes, or wondering when the chapter will begin please see the 3,300 words below as an update, new chapter, resolution, etc. I do wish to work on this project, and as November approaches, I hope to finish this. I have several ideas for other Twilight Fan Fiction (a cannon scene involving a cemetery, vignettes from before New Moon but after Twilight, and much more about the Cullen's history and past experiences a particularly favorite topic of mine) With all this in mind, I hope to move expediently through the next (how many is it now?) 4-5 months of Edward's life.

Before I leave you to read, critique, and hopefully enjoy the following chapter I wanted to draw your attention to a detail half-way through the chapter. At this point Edward "says" that moves approximately 25 feet in what he considers "a one hundred and fifty-eighth of a second." It is true that he might have not been completely precise, but while outlandish at first this figure is somewhat easy to grasp. At that speed Edward would be running approximately 45 miles per hour, relatively slow for him, considering how he is described to run faster than a motorcycle and to turn almost invisible with the speed. However, remember that the starting momentum will always require more energy to move a substantial distance, thus if Edward is moving approximately 45 miles per hour after less than .01% (And yes, I did calculated the percent that 1/158 would be of 60 seconds) of a minute then we can only imagine how quickly he would be running after, say, a minute. Thus I found this claim to be reasonable, but my calculations are quite probably flawed at some point. If any of you wish that it were slower/faster, or know a better way of calculating and analyzing this feel free to tell me. It was a point of curiosity for me, in order to help me conceptualize and visualize the speed of the vampires. I wish not to detract any more time from your reading!

Also, I understand I am far from my days of quite literally grovelling for reviews, but if we were to break the 200 or 250 barrier that would be truly amazing! As always please analyze, review, critique, and suggest.

Sincerely,

Itaque

_Disclaimer (The Bilingual edition!): _

_No soy Stephenie Meyer y tambien no puedo ser Edward Cullen. Basicamente no estoy sosteniendo que todo de esto es mio._

_I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor am I Edward Cullen. Basically, I own nothing. _

**The Test**

As the angry words of my siblings cut through the air, I swallowed harshly, forcing myself to temper my inner rage and willing any remaining ounce of self-dignity and respect to stop fighting with them. They were right. All of them. Jasper was right, it was I who was in denial. The lack of my angry shouts had done little to reduce the tempo of the argument. Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper traded barbs until Emmett joined in, all of them quarrelling, all of them unhappy because of me. Because of my mistake, my selfishness, and my irresponsibility. "Stop," I finally said after what could have been 15 seconds or five minutes—I couldn't completely tell. The silence that followed reverberated through each of our handsets, the absence of shouting and outbursts somehow reprimanding us of our juvenile behavior. "It's my fault. I'm sorry." They each tried to console me now, their goal no longer to win an argument but to comfort me. Their efforts were futile. I was steady and unmovable from my sea of depression. Finally after realizing I was a lost cause and continuing, still, they trailed off. Sobered by the pain in my voice they each muttered their apologies; the last of them was Jasper.

Halfway through what seemed like a canned apology from some courteous Southern gentlemen in _Gone With The Wind_, his tone changed. It molded to the emotion he wished to convey: sympathy, sadness, and honest regret. "Edward," he said pausing, "I am truly, truly sorry. I would, do, wish no harm upon you or Bella. It sometimes….I just am so weak….And I…and I... loathe it. I'm sorry. I truly am. I, we, all of us, want you back. I have a feeling you wont be back in say, the next few days, but we trust you'll come back in time."

Before hanging up I had tried, lamely, to comfort them with empty words but, they knew me well. Until I came back, which was far from occurring, the family unit wouldn't be the same. That, however, would not mean that they would be incomplete or broken. It was better this way I said, though I wasn't sure whether this was for their benefit or mine. Was I deluding myself into thinking I knew better, again?

With my phone off and my family somewhat satiated, I looked forward. What had happened since I left Forks seemed oddly out rhythm. I no longer had that concrete sense of time that had cemented the past one hundred years of my life. I had no concept of time spent in locations, no scope of the surroundings around me, and oddly enough time slowed to a near standstill pace while talking to my family and sped up unreasonably when I was alone. While talking with them the frenzied blur of agony that had preceded was slowed—it was no less painful, if anything more so, but everything was in clarity. I have some semblance of a thought process. It reminded me that there were others in the world besides myself and the one who I loved, desired, and cherished but could never have. To be in contact—even though the contact was minimal and sporadic—with those who knew me better than, at times, I knew myself was in an odd sense comforting. Albeit was a shallow weak comfort, it allowed me to regain a perspective. It was as though the thoroughly out of focus lenses that were now my life, were nudged until they were only a little bit less blurry. It reminded me of my past, my present, and most importantly my future.

It appeared as though my future lay with the seemingly daunting task before me, tracking and slaying a wild killer. Resorting to violence while abstaining from my rebellious ways. Victoria, the previous image I had was now tinged with the knowledge of her murderous activities. Even if Victoria did not harm, I swallowed, Bella, her violation of the many innocent civilians was reason enough to kill her. No amount of cruelty of that manner could be allowed. Or so I sought to reason with myself. I shook my head, as though that would clear the fogginess and tried to remember what I last knew about Victoria. Despite my lessened receptors, I still could recall images and events with much more ease that any human. The information came rushing forward, a solace from the continuously playing images of Bella that had been spiraling through my mind. Victoria had been in Canada, she had been planning a convoluted route, and the route would end up near southwest Mexico.

Then in a startling revelation I realized that my path was completely wrong: Victoria would never have left the blueprint to the horror trail she was creating lying in an empty shack. It was foolish for me have not realized this earlier. The map I had found must not have been her final plan. I had no way of determining where she was, any hope I had was now crushed, and disappointment returned swiftly like a eager, but annoying, companion. I would have to rely on what I had though, if I could find it. I knew my next plan of action, knowing what I would need to do calmed me, slightly. It allowed me to pretend I had a sense of purpose. As though I knew what I was doing. I scanned back through my memory, trying to remember where I had left the car, it should have still been near the outskirts of Marshall—that was, of course, unless someone else had been kind enough to relieve me of it. I had taken care to stow my stuff—namely my leather duffle bag—near the car just incase something like this had happened. It, again, felt strange to recall something that I had previously glanced over and forgotten.

Running swiftly back to the location, after determining that there were no humans nearby, I saw that the car was still in it's place and the ground above my bag was untouched. The town truly was empty. And in the haunting silence, the white noise only present when a location so full of life is now empty and seemingly listless, I surveyed the car. It looked as though an off-roading vehicle had decided to tango with this coupe and my car had barely escaped. It was truly a disgraced to all that was considered adequate means of transportation. It would die, inevitably, so I checked inside (realizing then that I also lacked the car keys) with the aid of a broken car window. I had thankfully left nothing behind. I would need considerably more damage in order if I had to get inside the car.

My mind tuned on running, I dug up my bag, and confirmed the contents. I gingerly placed in the sheaf of papers Victoria had left behind, my only leads at this point, and sprinted into the woods, the duffle bag uncomfortably slapping against me until I gained enough momentum. My plan was clear, with the documents in my bag I would quickly determine the "key locations" places with Victoria had written about several times. With these I could try to find some patter or rationality amidst the madness. Finally I would look up the towns, and nearby areas, check for any reported homicides. Try to see whether, by some form of sheer luck, I could find a duplicate trail, one that truly showed her intentions. With this trail I would hopefully be able to predict where Victoria was going and out maneuver her by reaching there before. I reeled through all of this as the wind brushed against my face, the light filtering down from the sky began to dwindle, and I realized I had yet to choose a destination. Unfortunately I didn't come with a built in Mapquest. With no idea of where I was, except that I was nearing a city (obvious by the overall aroma of humans), it became painfully apparent that I needed to feed. Quickly.

I placed my bag on the brown dirt by my feet and looked around the dense forest for a safe location. As I began to survey the area I caught wind of two hikers. They were too far for me to understand their thoughts, but close enough for me to smell their delectable scent. It was wrong, irresponsible, and foolish to have let myself get to this point of my thirst. The point where it took all in my power to stop from running towards the warm, nourishing, humans. I refocused on what I had been planning and darted to a location farther from the hikers and quickly carved out a location for my trusty, but worn, bag. After covering up the spot, I took a deep breath and scanned the surroundings trying to find out where the city was and ignore the now stronger scent of the hikers. Just another benefit of my brilliant luck, they were exactly between myself and the nearest park. If I continued in any other direction I would be coming upon the outskirts of the city, in contact with even more mouthwatering humans. The day—since my life was only one long day—seemed to be getting better and better.

I tried to map out the different routes I could take to avoid them; I could hear a river farther to my right. Perhaps if I ran along the river I would be safe, as the scent would be slightly dissipated. I started to turn when the dual force of their scent hit me with surprising intensity. Weak, alone, and morally confused I turned towards the scent unconsciously slowing inhaling the aromatic scent, its rich sweet flavor. An involuntary reaction, my mouth began to swell with venom, and the thirst that was raging at my throat began to torment it. The less than wonderful side of my mind slowly crawled forth trying to rationalize the evil action my body desired. _It would make you strong enough to fight Victoria. _It began,before continuing, _What if the supposed hikers are poachers, or ex-convicts? Your actions could help save lives. _Drawn ahead by that side of my already confused mind, I began to walk forward in the direction of their scent. I felt like someone following a trail the end replete with glorious prize of fresh human blood. My casual walk had turned into a sprint, a sprint towards temptation and all that I had tried to resist. I started to calm myself, imagining Carlisle's face, his disappointment, his confidence in my morality.

I needed to focus on something other than the humans now just fifty feet away from me. I glared at my hands, absorbing the details, imagining a story for every facet and line I saw. I concentrated only on the gleaming white hands in front of me until they seemed not to be a part of my body at all. They seemed distant and the more I stared and focus the farther away from "myself" I felt. It was hard to explain, and before I could sound pseudo-meditational, it was all wiped away. The scent of the humans tore through the weak resistance I had built. I swiftly moved behind a tree as they appeared only twenty-five feet from me.

Imagined gently leaning down to their neck, caressing it almost, as my teeth ripped through their flimsy, soft, skin. The monster I had so long fought to fight out was now with me, present with my every thought. That demon seemed to be controlling me, willing me to move in to an offensive crouching position. The demon urged me to move behind a tree that was directly behind and to the left of them. I, and that creature, knew that it would shield me from their view while allowing the perfect vantage point to strike the thin membrane like skin that covered the back of their neck. In less than approximately a hundred and fifty-eighth of a second I was behind them, in a movement that would be indiscernible to even some vampires. I edged in, trying to ignore the thoughts of my prey. That was what they were, weren't they? They were subject to terror from a far from normal sentient creature, innocent, and unwilling. It seemed like reason enough to call them prey. Their thoughts managed to pry through the cracks of my monstrous mental defense. They were two men, the younger of them seemed to have more fervent thoughts. _Please, please let them be around here. I know this is awful far from the path, but I was certain that I heard a group of deer around here. He'll probably think I was making it up. _His mind flitted to images of two boys playing, he the younger, an image of "disappointing" his older brother—the man who stood next to him. I stalled, intrigued by the story. The younger boy, whose name was Michael, had switched images. His head was now replaying a scene filled with golden light in a cramped 80's style kitchen. Scratchy music had played through a near broken radio as the summer flies buzzed behind a worn screen. He was staring out at the untidy yard behind his house watching as his older brother and a group of other boys his age rowdily romped and played. His mother had approached, her weary face lined with worry because his father was gone, as usual, and stray hairs falling over her face and from her loose bun. She had stood next to him watching his older brother, Warren, as well. In the golden light he had sneaked a glance at her, watching, as she slowly said, "your father…has…left. For good." She had told him to tell his older brother. The disappointment his older brother had felt, as though it was personally _his_ fault for "forcing" their flighty father to leave had clouded their relationship. As much as I would have not regretted snapping the neck of another Mike, it was not fair for me to attack these two innocent hunters. Granted, hunting was not the most saintly of activities, but still, nonetheless I had no true reason.

I tried to tell that to the monster in my mind, conjuring back the images of hurt and sadness that had filled these two boys lives. It didn't work. Stronger than the emotion was the thirst. This was an innate, animalistic necessity, which trumped all other desires. I carefully positioned myself behind Warren, who I would strike first. I was moving to the beat of their hearts, the pulsing of blood that blocked out reason with its continuous motion. Thump, Thud, Thump, Thud. I moved closer, I couldn't do this, could I? The hollow thump, thud, thump thud, thump thud, thump, thud, broke through again. It was fine wasn't it? Thump, thud, thump, thud. I concentrated on my surroundings seeing their superior thyroid vein pulse with oxygen poor blood. The external carotid artery interested me the most, filled with delicious oxygen rich blood. It could feel the vibration, the never-ending motion of the liquid rushing through that vein. I could feel myself move in and draw from that life-giving liquid. Thump, thud, thump, thud. Thump, thud, thump, thud. I closed my eyes, trying to fight the intensity of my thirst that was blocking my senses. Thump, thud, thump, thud. I squeezed the bridge of my nose, focusing on their voice. I nearly lost it. I was about to finally move in, questioning what had held me back from the savory delight in front of me. In a final resort the more honorable side of my mind summoned something that could hold me back from doing this evil deed. Thump, thud, thump, thud. It was a losing battle. Thump, thud. I moved closer, quietly, without disrupting the concentration of the two brothers who were listening for the deer. Thump, thud, thump, thud. I could imagine the red liquid flowing before me. Open. Free. Red. Thump, thud. I braced myself as I saw their neck and pulsating veins with even more clarity. Thump, thud. Thump. Thud. Then it flashed infront of my face. Their neck was her neck, Bella's neck. Their tenuous hold on life, their fragile form, was _her_. In a flash I recoiled. It was now impossible for me to attack them. Regardless of the thirst, pain, and desire there was something much stronger: my love for Bella. I swiftly ran away as quick and quietly as possible. However, I waited until I was 400 feet away before truly running. I pushed my feet beneath me, the image of Bella driving me farther and farther from what would have been a devastating mistake. I watched the ground whip by in front of me, and the wind whistle by my side. I knew I could stop running but I continued. I pounded against the ground as I willed my feet faster and faster, the long forgotten pang of breathlessness never arriving. I ran with no purpose other than to get away. I ran though I could hear their heartbeat fading. I ran though I could no longer hear the previously tempting thump, thud. I ran chastising myself for considering human blood. I ran for her. I ran for Bella, hoping that wherever she was, whatever she was doing she could be proud. I knew I didn't want her to remember me, but at least if she did her memory would not be false. I had resisted. For her. With this I continued my darting course among the trees. The wind brushed against my face, helping to clear my thoughts. The whipping branches felt like light taps on my back, applauding me for resisting. But most importantly Bella, fragile, beautiful, and intangible lingered ahead.


	21. Ruminations

**Dear Readers: **

**My apologies for sounding like a caffeine-addicted newscaster, however, stay tuned for the longer update coming later today (or possibly tomorrow)! I wanted to post this online before I continued merely because this seemed like a sufficient, short, chapter in itself. With a little over 1000 words this chapter is truly an addition to the previous chapter, though its final line (do not scroll down, it shall not make sense!) I felt it deserved some space of its own. Once you do finish you will probably be able to glean what will inevitably follow. Also, on a random note, what do you think of the new New Moon trailer?**

**Reviews have been, are always, and will be much appreciated.**

**Most sincerely,**

**Itaque**

_Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. Bella, Edward, Victoria, and others mentioned in this story are not my creation(s)._

**Ruminations**

To say I ran until I could run no more would be a lie, my ability to withstand fatigue, breathlessness, and physical pain was one of the better side effects of my immortality. Unfortunately the less joyful side effects, i.e. thirst, were just as prevalent in my life. Thus, after running about 70 miles my already worn body was sane enough to realize that I needed sustenance, quickly. After locating a nearby group of deer I fed greedily. I was ashamed to admit it but I was far from satiated.

The thirst had only be farther agitated by the close encounter with the humans that coupled with what seemed to be almost a month—surprisingly I could not recall how much time had passed—without any blood made me ravenous.

After taking down the four deer I stood in the woods shifting my weight and slowly turning in a circle as my ears and nose took in the sound and scents around me. About a mile to my right I could hear the dull rustle of a larger predator moving through the brush, but I could also sense the scent of a lone moose. I made my choice instantly, turning to the right and darting closer. As I approached the animal I could smell its pungent odor, and identified it as a Canada Lynx. It was a bit of a disappointment; I could tell that it was only at only about two and a half feet long, effectively offering the same nutrition as a large house cat. Orienting myself again, I could tell that more miles north were some mountains, and thought perhaps I might be able to catch a cougar.

I started running again. The decision was instantaneous, so rapid that I barely remembered how it felt when I was a human. The human response of thinking, possessing, and finally moving seemed sluggish in retrospect. I passed my time idly, if I could ever be idle when away from her. The intrinsic part of my long gone heart wished to be pounding my feet in a completely opposite direction, a dangerous direction. One that would take me unreasonably close to a town named for articles of dinnerware. Was there a reason why I suddenly cherished the thought of dinnerware? Yes. Of course there was, but that _reason_ was what needed me to find Victoria. I refocused on my feline-tracking task at hand. The hunting was so mundane and routine that the time passed like a blur. If time could ever move so quickly. In reality what transpired was an avoidance of seeing my surroundings. An attempt to shroud myself from the pain I knew would undoubtedly follow if I allowed myself to open my aching mind. Thus, I spent my time with part of my mind locating and the other half planning what I would need to be doing. It felt strangely normal for once, this hyper- compartmentalization of my actions. The planning was simple, after hopefully locating a cougar I would need to start acting.

Though the past few months had seemed like the longest in my life I had little, if anything, to show for it. That fact was about—no, would—change. Confidence is key, I reminded myself, ignoring the annoying seemingly omnipresent voice that said, _confidence about what? A harebrained mission relying on information garnered by a rare fluke of luck? _ Confidence, I internally repeated. After traveling and searching for about another half-hour, little time for a human and usually immortal, but eternity for a hunting vampire I came upon a cougar. I attacked swiftly and easily taking care not to make a mess, though my clothes could hardly be further worsened at this point. It seemed as though my goal was to infuriated everyone in my family—Rosalie with my beaten car and Alice with my battered clothes.

The realization hit harder that one would superficially assume. The reason behind every pretense that we set up before humans was ultimately selfish. We, Cullens, prided ourselves in being more "civilized" than our sanguinary counterparts. And we tried to show our difference through a variety of things, primarily abstaining from human blood, but also maintaining a proper façade. This façade included taking care of our clothing (for me, after living a hundred years fashion seemed to be changing incessantly and unnecessarily, for Alice on the other hand…), our house, our car, and our overall demeanor. A lapse in any of these would only bring us closer to the monsters we all wished to be free from. Here I was, clearly failing all of the structured points our coven had prided ourselves for, I wondered whether that, in part, had led me so close to the humans.

I couldn't bear to think about my previous actions. To have been that close, I cringed at the memory and lashed my hand out pummeling a near by tree. This only incited more frustration. Could I only keep destroying? Sardonically I reminded myself, I was not an actor. As much as actors chose to indulge in method acting for a performance, my conquest for Victoria would not need me to turn in to the monster she was. That would be the least productive thing, I reminded myself. The more animalistic I allowed myself to become the farther from my conscience I would become. Since in essence, this was a moral battle between Victoria and myself the prospect of sharing her scruples seemed unproductive at best.

My mind quickly saw what I needed to do, not only to solace the memory of my family but to also clear my mind. I began to run towards where I had left my things, driving my feet farther forward, propelling myself even faster. I smiled a tight inward grimace; I had never thought it would come to this. Even after searching for Victoria for a mere few months, would could have thought that my entire trust would be put upon such a small object? Perhaps I was exaggerating, slightly. The upcoming "battle" was far from the sole determining factor in my search for Victoria. If anything it would only prove to be a useful ally in my journey. Yes, the time had come. I was going shopping.


	22. Purchasing

Dear Readers,

I know I have apologized, promised, and broken said promises to you before but please take this message as a token of my profuse guilt for not updating this fan fiction as regularly as I had hoped. I am stirred by your unending support and feedback, and—though belated—have resolved to update as frequently as humanly possible.

Those of you familiar with the NanoWrimo writing challenge will understand the trouble I've committed to; I plan on participating in the NanoWrimo challenge, and though that is still months away, I hope to practice with this fan fiction. Additionally, I hope you will be pleased to know that everything I write for the NanoWrimo challenge will be part of New Moon from Edward's POV (actual title to come!).

Edward's New Moon saga will continue. I have many plans and, in replies to comments, have divulged some of my ideas for future chapters. I hope I have not disappointed you all too much, and again am truly sorry I have not updated as frequently as possible. To show my commitment to the story, I've attached a brief sample of what's to come below:

With the plastic, ominously hard even in my hands, I began to collect my thoughts. Shopping. Yes, shopping. I tried repeating the fact, my mind tasting and probing what I had already accepted. Credit card in hand I deliberated driving rather than running. The feral, monstrous, side of me wished to brazenly sprint towards the nearest shopping center, finish the pain quickly. Channeling my inner Alice, I tried to find a shopping mall (was that even what they called it these days?).


End file.
